A Descent into Rancor
by Delicious Mud Pie
Summary: It is finished! Okay, story summary: Brock's family is murdered by a gang. His sister is kidnapped, and he joins Team Rocket in order to find her. Ash and Misty ARE big parts. It's cool. Read it and review it, I'll love you forever!
1. The Scent of Smoke and Snowfall

Disclaimer: La programa -Pokémon- no es el mio.  


  
  
A Descent into Rancor  
Part I- The Scent of Smoke and Snowfall  


  
  
  
**Sometime in the future. . .**  
The paper crumpled easily in the hand of the executioner, and he closed his eyes lightly as he tossed it into the garbage. Rain sifted through the clouds and into his hair and onto his face, and it dripped off his jacket onto the black paved asphalt of the alleyway, of the night. He was comforted by the damp and somewhat ominous red bricks which surrounded him as his straight jacket, keeping him from lashing out at the world which had corrupted his soul.  
  
He tipped his hat downward, crossing his arms beneath his trench coat one last time to make sure what he needed was there. Somewhat to his dismay--it was. He coughed nervously as he knocked on the door. Every time he had to do this he was nervous. Nothing could ever calm his nerves, no matter how many times he accomplished his job. He wasn't afraid of death. Death could claim him and his hell doomed body and force him into its fiery depths for all eternity. That was not his concern. The reason why he was damned, however, was what caused his anxiety.  
  
He had to knock again, as the first was ignored. He knocked more fiercely this time, looking away, looking toward the rain which latched onto his eyelids and made his vision almost teary. He would have been crying, but he didn't cry anymore. He cried the first five, six times before he approached a shoddy place like the one he stood before. He was but a living cadaver at that point, however, and he was more focused on hurrying up and leaving than the sadness which ate away at him.  
  
Finally, the door was opened.  
  
A huge man stood in its opening, his arms folded neatly across his chest.  
  
was all he had to say.  
  
The executioner clenched his teeth a moment as he tried to remember the password. It was more poetic than most of the passwords at these sorts of places, and it actually stung his tongue a little as he said it. It seemed like nonsense, but something about it struck a chord in his being.  
  
By the chains of the table, the snake has its cage, he shoved out of his throat as it suddenly became dry, the scent of smoke and snowfall adds to the rage.  
  
The man stepped aside, and the executioner adjusted his hat once again. He wasn't used to wearing the damned things, and this one was so wide rimmed that it as constantly trying to slide towards one way or the other. It was mostly used to keep his identity a secret--not that anyone had ever lived to recognize him anyway. He tried to keep his hands away from the inside of his jacket, for that would make people suspicious.  
  
Footsteps from his shoes were all he heard as he strode up to the bar. The place was noisy, but he had to drown the noise out or his conscience would drag him back to earth. He was on a high of drugs designed to soothe his nerves, and he couldn't let anything get in its way.  
  
The bartender leaned over the counter, his elbow gathering dust. The executioner wrinkled his nose at the state of the counter, but his own condition was blood stained, so no amount of filth could detour him from taking his ceremonial drink.  
  
What would you like? the bartender asked, not quite as enthused as he probably should be.  
  
Just get me a beer, the executioner grumbled, never looking into the eyes of the bartender.  
  
He could never look into their eyes. Their eyes were death to his mission. Their eyes could dampen his soul with the inhibition it craved, the inhibition he fought with all of his being.  
  
He sang to himself softly as the beer arrived, and he sipped it with caution. No, it wasn't poisoned.  
  
_You're not the same man I knew, he imagined her saying. You're someone else. Someone dark, someone filled with hate.  
  
_ he gulped, and began singing again as the memory ended. The smoke from the bar and the incense of his beer clouded his mind. He always drained his mind of thought before these things. He always had a beer, and sang the same song to himself.  
  
Can I burn the mazes I grow? he sang. The bartender looked at him quizzically as the singing became louder. Can I? I don't think so.  
  
The bartender's face fell, and the entrance to the room opened once again.  
  
Right on time, the executioner grinned as the man yanked on the trigger of his gun quickly.  
  
I don't think so, the executioner smiled, sipping his beer while ripping a gun from his coat, destroying the man before the trigger could be completely pulled.  
  
This was the part that he hated. After his target was down, everyone else tried to kill him as well. He knew that he shouldn't let anyone survive anyway. No one knew what he looked like except for his own boss. Not even the other Team Rocket members knew what he looked like, except for two.  
  
The bartender was the first to take a shot. The executioner had two guns, one in each hand, at this point, and no one could get a shot off on him.  
  
He was the ultimate assassin.   
  
He was the ultimate killer.  
  
He was a weapon created by raw revenge--  
  
He was a munition carved by the uneven hand of fate.  
  
The movements of his hands were reminiscent of lightning, and the blood that spilled from the hideous wounds of his victims drenched the floor. It wasn't the time to think about them now. His mind was almost on auto pilot. He could aim and fire and kill without even thinking about what he was doing. His only weakness was the flashbacks which swept his mind during this time.  
  
_I'm so sorry, she cried. I'll do everything I can to get you through this.  
  
I want to die. All I want to do is to die--  
  
He remembered every suicide attempt vividly. He remembered when they stopped, what they turned into. Any innate reservation he held about the flow of blood was definitely scattered from his mind as he'd pressed a knife to his easily torn skin time and time again. He knew what it was called. Self mutilation. Every time she'd cry, and every time he would want to die a little more.  
  
Then came his opportunity.  
  
His opportunity to warp his depression into rage--a controlled rage. He hated Team Rocket, but the Cage was their new rival, their new total enemy. Anyone who wanted to annihilate the Cage couldn't be so bad.   
  
_The assassin froze as he realized he was just shooting at objects, and that all of his targets were dead. No one could quite believe how that one man could wipe out twenty or more gun wielding men at a time without receiving a scratch. He didn't know how he did it himself--when he got in that state of mind where everything became blank, he was an impossibly efficient killing machine.  
  
But then it was time to leave. He always felt a little lost--like he didn't know where to go. He had to get out of there before the cops came. Not that that would present a problem. He was quick, and he was safely in the depths of town the block before anyone was even notified of a possible disturbance in that alleyway--  
  
He supposed that he could go home. It was a strange journey. He knew better than to feel like eyes were drilling into his back. The night seemed strangely illuminating against his skin as he shuffled toward the street on which he lived. His skin--it tempted him a little, he didn't feel alive unless he felt some sort of pain. He was broken in a million ways, so being physically broken just seemed to come natural.  
  
He was a picture of silence as he left the chilled sidewalks and ascended the stairs toward his apartment. Team Rocket provided him with an apartment, now that he was theirs.   
  
The light came on reluctantly, and he sighed as it was still mostly empty--as always. He shook a little as the couch and the television and the tables and just _everything_ seemed to oppress him. He felt like an addict suffering from withdrawals as he nearly jogged to the kitchen, barely stopping to flip on the light.   
  
He pulled a knife from a drawer. He could hardly open the drawer because he was shaking so badly. Tears were coming to his eyes as he sat on the floor, stripping the clothes from the upper half of his body.  
  
It was cold. But he didn't want to put the heater on. Goosebumps wracked his upper half, and his shaking tripled, though none of it could have been due to shivering. He licked his lips as he made about four tiny gashes on his arm, and he seemed to relax slightly as he let the blood dribble down his arm.  
  
Pain.  
  
It was so inviting.  
  
Yes--he was indeed alive. And he would remain that way. He was becoming very proficient at gashing himself in order to minimize blood. Old scars were making it difficult to get clean cuts, but sometimes, after having assassinated a lot of people, he didn't mind the extra work and pain that came from tearing through old scars.  
  
He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly as drops of blood fizzled upon the linoleum. He didn't know why he always imagined it wearing at the floor as if it was acid, but he thought it might have had to do with the nerve-calming drugs.  
  
The shaking ceased, and he stood back up to go to the kitchen and clean up.  
  
He allowed himself to become tired as his eyes focused on the lonely dark which was all there was to see outside the kitchen window. The blood began to run thin as cold water from a rag obscured its direction. Though the shaking had stopped, he was breathing heavily, his heart pounding furiously, and his mind flipped over in his skull, allowing him to cry. To lament the deaths of the people he'd killed and to lament the death of himself.  
  
The tears continued as he walked into his bedroom, and after having his rush, he flipped the light switch of this room very leisurely.  
  
The blankets upon his bed stirred, and he allowed a smile to dampen his lips as a red-furred fox sleepily poked its head out from the blankets.  
  
He took his pants off and replaced them with flannel pajama bottoms, then flipped off the switch and felt his way back to his bed. He shivered as he remained still under the blankets, trying to warm up.   
  
Vulpix snuggled under his arm, adding some warmth to his otherwise frigid upper half. He was sweating as the drugs wore off, but he knew it would soon pass. He began to pet the fur of his dear pet, and cried himself to sleep all while wearing a smile.  
  
--------------------------------------  
**The Next Day**  
The grass splashed around like a weathered sea, mimicking the movements of life's animation as it toyed with the pant legs and the skirts of those who only had death on their minds.  
  
They had cried at the last funeral. The funeral they attended only three months before. It was hard not to cry with nine sepulchers littering a grass fitted earth. But they weren't necessarily sobbing for the dead.  
  
At that funeral Brock was on his knees, unable to keep from hysterics. He was the only one alive to deliver a eulogy, but he could not. Misty comforted him best she could, hugging him, wiping his tears, but there was no comfort to be given.  
  
They understood this.  
  
And they couldn't cry at the funeral now.  
  
There was no ominous sepulcher, nor tomb nor casket, but the headstone would be there just the same. There was no body--not because it was _assumed_ that he was dead, but because the decimation which had occurred didn't leave a body to be buried, only pieces to char into ashes.  
  
They weren't crying at this funeral. They were too stunned. They couldn't deliver the eulogy because they were stunned speechless.  
  
_Explosion.  
  
_One word flittered its was across Misty's mourn-wrought mind. A tar, brainsickly rain began to invade her thoughts, and it only let her think in words or nonsensical phrases.  
  
_Dead?  
  
_Dead. Dead. Dead. She thought he would commit suicide--but he hadn't. As it was told, the Cage just finished the job.  
  
Misty flinched at the mention of either of the conflicting gangs of the island. They'd brought their fair share of bullshit, dragging pain along their merry paths as they battled and strove to become better than the other.  
  
And they played each other--in ways that Misty was just now learning about. She never told Brock what she learned about the Cage because of what she learned about Team Rocket.  
  
But it wouldn't have mattered. Sure, it would have destroyed his existence. That is--if he had an existence in the first place. He left them, five months after what had happened. He left, and only Misty now knew why.   
  
_Dead?  
  
_Yes, dead.  
  
It almost sickened her to think that it was perhaps better that way. Perhaps better for a great deal of humanity that he was dead.  
  
But it wasn't better for her.  
  
She knew she couldn't have--have--it didn't matter now. He was dead long before the explosion. She knew that. She could live with that as well. She knew that maybe if she played her cards right he wouldn't have died, but it was still the fault of no one.  
  
She didn't think she really loved him. If she loved him, she probably would have blamed herself. Don't people blame themselves for the deaths of their loves? Brock blamed himself for the deaths of his family members.   
  
Maybe she did love him. But it was a child's love. Despite her young age, she was no child now. She'd been blasted from that fanciful illusion in ways almost unimaginable.  
  
She turned her head slightly, looking toward her remaining companion.  
  
He was no longer a child either. He wasn't a child and he wasn't innocent. He still wasn't totally disillusioned about the ordeal as she was. Misty wasn't a child because she learned that people could kill and live vehemently for lies. They could pour their whole souls and actions into lies.  
  
Misty's lip twitched slightly, and she put protective arms around Ash, clinging to his smaller body for the warmth to stave away the biting wind and the warmth to stave away the puncture which ate voraciously at her soul.  
  
Neither of them said a word. They neither listened to a word the preacher said. Their minds strayed far away, and they knew it would be a while before they'd be up and moving like times of old.   
  
--------------------------------------  
**Three Months Earlier  
**They were packing guns, but they decided not to use them at that time. They must have meant to send a message. They must have thought this was the home of someone of high ranking in Team Rocket--but it was not. Their consciences must have been stripped from them somehow, as they were able to mercilessly knife the innocent lives from eight children and one adult.  
  
It was a night and a distance plagiarized by horror novels time and time again, and Jessie's fingers grew slick with blood as she pulled the dagger from the back of the man.  
  
It was a strange feeling. She was violent, in her way, but the blood made her sick. The man's slowly reddening body plodding to the ground in an unhappy collapse stung her eyes. And the glove on her hand came off quickly, though she didn't remember pulling it off seconds after doing it.  
  
Let's go! James shouted, flinging a small child over his shoulder. We don't have much time! It's too late for the others.  
  
Jessie blinked, entranced,   
  
James hissed, they're all dead. Already. You saved this one, though.  
  
The girl was screaming incessantly, and it was likely that the killers would not be all too pleased that their job could not be finished.  
  
James took Jessie's hand and forced her to run through the clattering, underbrush jumped ground to their van. James prayed to himself as his fist-bruised back reminded him of the precious cargo he carried. He wasn't upset that she was pounding him. It was insanity driven punching, she wanted to go back and save her family.  
  
The girl screamed enough to burst the blood vessels in her throat as James tried to gently place her in the back of the van. He felt pressed for time, but he knew that no good would come of trying to quickly force the little girl into the van.  
  
Meowth jumped into the back as well, and James shut it, ignoring the pounding which ensued from the inside. He hopped into the passenger's seat, and as Jessie had already started the car long before, he didn't even have a chance to close the door before the vehicle tore down the street in a wheel-squealing mess. Their car was shot after, but none of the shots actually did anything effectual to stop Jessie and James from getting far enough away so that they could no longer be chased on foot. With Jessie's maniacal speed, James doubted that the enemy would have time to get in their car and give chase anyway. Meowth had made sure that the little girl's remained down for the duration of the drive, just in case any shots came through the window. She was still screaming, although rather hoarsely, but something about Meowth prompted her to listen. Jessie thought that it was probably a fanciful perception of a talking pokémon that a child might harbor--like myths about winged Rapidash--that made her trust Meowth.  
  
Jessie was white-knucking the steering wheel hard enough so that her knuckles might burst through her skin, and a frozen expression of undisplayable emotion strewn across her pallid face.   
  
James tried to say softly, but she didn't hear him over the little girl's screaming.  
  
he shouted.  
  
Jessie blinked suddenly, the only indication that she'd acknowledged his voice.  
  
It's okay, James comforted loudly. We did as much as we could.  
  
Jessie continued to stare ahead, her eyes shimmering as images of the scene they'd fled replayed in her mind, heightened by the screaming which filled the van.  
  
James turned away, trying not to embarrass her as a tear dripped from the corner of her eye in a path toward the corner of her mouth.  
  
Night was a time in which depression and fear, as raw emotion, were heightened. However, as dawn began to chime like icicles cluttering to a porch from an awning, tiredness settled upon everyone in the van. Jessie's eyes drooped as their surroundings seemed to blur, and James' head was lolling flaccidly against the back of his seat. The girl's hideous wails had softened into pitiful, anguished moaning, and she was crying into Meowth's fur.  
  
Jessie could almost taste sleep as the apartment complex in which Team Rocket housed their workers blurred past the van. She knew sleep wasn't something that would come soon, and it depressed her a little. It was as if she was anticipating an injection, and it just wouldn't get over with.  
  
What's your name? Meowth asked the girl.  
  
she sniffled.   
  
They pulled into Team Rocket headquarters--which was conveniently located near the lodging. Jessie was at least thankful for this.  
  
The driveway called to her as her car inched its way into the parking lot. They were still wary of anyone who might jump out of them. The area was deserted, which amplified the tension between those who piled out of the van. It was an especially strange feeling since their tiredness made everything seem to pass as a surreal illusion, even Katie's crying seemed somewhat illusory as a mirage hand tugged at the door of the Headquarter's front entrance.  
  
Though the outside of the building was fitted with silence, the inside was shockingly clamorous. The building was soundproofed for obvious reasons.   
  
Jessie and James dragged their feet as they approached the counter. Katie was back over James shoulder, but she wasn't pounding him.  
  
the receptionist, a young lady just breaking into the gang, asked. She looked up with a tinge of apathy at the debacle-worn faces of the two rocket members in front of her.  
  
We need to talk to the boss, Jessie announced in a gruff voice.   
  
Jessie didn't feel like taking the girl's snot, but she knew it was inevitable. For some reason neither she nor James struck a chord of respect in the hearts of even the receptionists.  
  
He's busy at the moment, she yawned.  
  
Jessie knew what she would have to resort to, but it almost felt forced as she used her sleep-weighted hands to grab the girl fierily by the collar. Jessie was quite bigger than her, and lifted her off the ground with ease. The girl stared at Jessie's snarl-bearing face with eyes wide.  
  
Jessie put the girl down quite harshly, and repeated her request.  
  
We're going to talk to the boss, she shouted.   
  
I-I-I guess he can fit you in, the girl muttered, then pressed a button on a speakerphone on her desk.  
  
It was a moment before a distorted voice spewed forth from the device, a moment of discomfort for Jessie, even though she knew she and James had probably done the most competent thing they'd ever done in their careers. She didn't think Giovanni would appreciate having his best secretaries maliciously manhandled, for a good cause or not.  
  
he asked, with agitation in his voice. Which was not surprising to anyone listening.  
These two Rocket Members have to see you, she replied squeakily. Jessie could not tell whether it was in fear of her or in fear of Giovanni.  
  
If you think they must, send them in, he growled.  
  
All right, the girl nodded, then pressed the speakerphone button again, shutting it off. She looked away from Jessie and pointed to the office. She didn't even want to speak to her.  
  
Jessie didn't feel like she'd done anything so intimidating, but she was buffered with the knowledge that a little exertion of force could go a long way. She and James silently marched to Giovanni's office. Even Katie was being relatively quiet. There was an aura of silence-inducing fear around the rocket members, all caused by one man.  
  
It was almost comforting that Giovanni was turned around in his desk and shrouded in darkness. Jessie and James both doubted that his real name was even Giovanni. He used some device to mangle his voice as always, which was an odd comfort as well.  
  
But it was only comforting enough to allow his visitors to control their bladders. James was shaking, and Jessie reflected on how odd it was that a mere man who was once a child could instill such life-threatening terror into people. Katie was shaking as well as James, the nearly-grown man's terror seeping into her skin as well.  
  
What do you want? Giovanni asked.  
  
Jessie had a fleeting and inane thought of the Wizard of Oz before continuing, but she shook it off. The Cage had attacked a family living in Pewter City. We were in the area and tried to stop them as best we could. They-- she normally would have given a description, but she didn't want to be so blunt while in the presence of the little one who had just lost all that she lived for.   
  
They what? Giovanni asked, almost softly. It didn't seem to be softened because of concern, more because of shock. Jessie was mildly insulted by his shock, but was made brave by the wavering in his steely countenance.  
  
The family is no longer with us, Jessie tried to soften it. Except for this small child. I killed one of the Cage members, but the rest got away. We're sorry for being unable to do more.  
  
Giovanni was silent for a good deal of time, which perplexed both Jessie and James. When he began to speak again, he seemed flustered beyond belief. This mildly insulted Jessie as well, as she assumed it was in shock because of their previous ineptness, but she shrugged it off.  
  
Well, um, Giovanni stammered, good job--white team--um, what shall be done about the young girl?  
  
Jessie's eyes widened impossibly. Giovanni was asking _her_ what to do about the child? She must have invaded his privacy during his acid dropping session.  
  
We can take care of her! a previously silent Meowth interjected. He didn't like to talk to Giovanni due to hard feelings, but apparently he'd formed some sort of motherly attachment to the child, which in turn loosened his tongue.   
  
Good solution, Giovanni agreed.  
  
Katie wiggled, trying to get free from James' shoulder. James put her down, pretty sure of her intentions.  
  
Katie ran up to Meowth and hugged him tightly, begining to cry on him all over again.  
  
We'll find out if she has any living relatives, James said softly. The girl seemed oddly familiar, as if she sported some resemblance to someone he couldn't quite place at the moment.  
  
I think it would be better if you cared for her, Giovanni quickly decided, because the Cage might do anything to finish the job.  
  
Then we'll find a possible relative and warn them, Jessie asserted herself, the cage might be after this poor girl's entire family.  
  
The little girl suddenly became animated, and ran over to Jessie. she shouted. We have to find my brother!  
  
You have a brother? Jessie looked down at the girl. Her task would be easier if the girl would cooperate. What's his name?  
  
the girl shouted.   
  
Jessie and James both suddenly froze.  
  
The resemblance.  
  
It was obvious now--she was the sister of one of the twerps. The tallest one.  
  
And thus Jessie formed a motivation in her mind. The twerps must have done something to piss the Cage off, as they'd done to Team Rocket numerous times.  
  
But that didn't qualify the actions they'd taken. The Cage had gone too far. Jessie also thought that they would have to warn the families of all of the twerps.  
  
We'll be going now, Jessie affirmed. We have work to do.  
  
Giovanni sputtered.  
  
Jessie and James left the office, both stuck drowning in their thoughts. They would have to act fast and furiously, and they couldn't screw up this time. Too much depended on their success. They left sullenly, closing the door harshly behind them.  
  
Giovanni slammed his fist on the table as he got on the phone.  
  
A small female voice answered him, and he sputtered into her ear immediately.  
  
The plan worked, he sighed.  
  
So you think we'll be able to reclaim our experiment soon? she replied, a cold edge to her voice.  
  
Jessie and James were ironically competent this time, and saved one of the children attacked, Giovanni began. She's very young. They brought her in. She was a real mess.  
  
Poor thing, the female clenched her teeth, her statement not coming off as terribly sympathetic. Giovanni scowled a little, and continued.  
  
Jessie and James are taking care of her, he continued. No one will suspect it, I've given them orders not to inform her family, so that they won't want her returned and in danger again.  
  
Good plan, the female monotonously praised.  
  
I think they _know_ the girl's brother, though, Giovanni announced, almost excitedly.   
This could make it easy to recruit him. We already have a liaison. He could help us accomplish our goals, he would help us get rid of the Cage.  
  
the girl agreed. Saving his sister was very opportune, if you think about it.  
  
It was indeed, Giovanni replied. Very opportune.  
_  
_--------------------------------------  
**Three Days After the Previous Occurrence  
**Nature seemed to mock Ash, Brock and Misty as it shone down on them with the rays of happiness and emerald green grass and leaves flirted with the heat-attracting garb sported by each person in the cemetery.  
  
Misty sighed in a short, frustrated burst as she squeezed Brock even more tightly.  
  
The young man sounded like someone dying the death of a thousand cuts as he leaned over, his hands which were cupped over his face just inches from the grass. His elbows rested on his thighs as he leaned over in a ball. He was wound so tightly that Misty had trouble sliding an arm around his waist and back to comfort him, but he seemed to be too gone to notice her attempts anyway.  
  
Brock's extended family were few in number, so a good deal of helpful people from the community had to carry the caskets onto the cemetery grounds. Those same people had all pitched in to pay for funeral expenses as well, seeing as there was no way Brock could do it.  
  
But it was a sight out of a nightmare as the clear blue, sunny sky greeted the surfaces of nine identical caskets, each white with a bouquet of flowers adorning the top. No one listened to the sermon of the preacher. Brock's caterwauling did his family service enough. He didn't seem so intensely affected by the tragedy until that day. But Misty knew it would hit him at some point in time. For the previous two days he kept going on about the possibility of Katie being alive, since her body was never found, but it really didn't matter now, at the funeral.  
  
Misty cringed as she asked Ash to spelunk for a Kleenex in her backpack. Ash listened, and though it took a few minutes, eventually a small package of tissue was produced and handed to Misty.   
  
Misty pulled a tissue from the plastic and gently pulled Brock's hands from his face. She wiped his face free of tears and snot, but was unable to clear away the redness. His crying didn't stop, and Misty took each of his hands in her own, wiping them clean as well.   
  
Brock was indeed a mess, but no one expected any less. Misty pulled him to her so that he could cry on her shoulder, and he pressed his face into her with a feverish pressure, and Misty cried back onto his shoulder as well, trying to absorb every tremor and gasp that came from Brock's torn figure.  
  
Ash bent down as well, putting an arm over Brock's shoulders. He was crying silently himself, and thought that Brock could probably use all of the comfort that he could get. Even Pikachu patted Brock's leg, trying to console him.  
  
The precession ended after a lengthy drawl, but Ash, Misty and Brock remained. The caskets were being covered in dirt, and they remained, still sobbing, allowing time to pass around them without a regard. Everyone had left--and still they remained.  
  
The trees behind them rustled, but they paid no attention to it. They didn't come out of their status until someone tapped Ash on the shoulder.  
  
Ash looked up, amazed to see the face of Jessie. It was even more astounding to see her dressed in black, her face red as well. Meowth wasn't with her, and James had walked over to the freshly buried caskets. Ash didn't say anything to them. He was both too drained, and uncaring seeing as it was obvious they weren't making an attempt on his pikachu.  
  
We have to talk to you, Jessie whispered.  
  
Why was she crying?  
  
We know the Cage did it, Misty fumed. They only left their sigma on everything they left--behind.  
  
Jessie winced as she recalled how the Cage etched their emblem into the foreheads of their targets, whether they left them alive or dead.  
  
That is part of what we had to say, Jessie softly continued. We think that your families might be in danger as well. We don't know what you can do about it, but we can't think of a reason why they would--  
  
Jessie stopped her sentence short and looked to the ground.  
  
The police believed they thought someone associated with the family was part of Team Rocket, Misty narrowed her eyes. But I don't know what would give them that idea. We've never even seen any agents from the Cage. But if I ever do--  
  
I understand, Jessie pursed her lips, realizing that none of the twerps _had_ ever done anything or associated with anyone in the cage. They were only harassed by Team Rocket.  
  
Ash turned to Misty. I'd better go home and protect my mom!  
  
Get your mom, Misty narrowed her eyes. We'll all stay at my gym, until, I don't know when. But we have to stick together, to be safe.  
  
I suggest you get police protection, James said shakily, returning from having placed a rose on each grave. He handed one to Brock as well after returning. Brock kept it in his hand, but continued crying, not looking up or responding.  
  
We have to go, Jessie whispered. The cage is after us too. But we will probably keep an eye on you guys, just in case. I'd hurry and get your families if I was you.  
  
The three agreed, but remained in the grass long after Jessie and James returned to their van.  
  
Did you tell him that I love him and I'll see him soon? Katie asked as soon as they sat in the front seats.  
  
Of course, James smiled. He knows you're safe with us, and we won't let anything happen to you.  
  
  
****A/N: this part was dramatic, but the next part will be more action/adventure. You'll find out the truth about The Cage, exactly how Brock got involved in Team Rocket and why they were so intested in him, and more. R&R! And, read and review Sanguine Dreams as well. It's a finished story and you should, err, read and review it. The next part of this will be more interesting. This just set up what's going to happen for the rest of the story. It's not going to be all drama/angst. So don't fret! ^_^ This is based on a few video games I've played. I won't say what until the end. But it's very LOOSELY based on them, so you probably won't be able to guess which they are.


	2. The Scent of Rage and Rain

******a/n** I don't own pokémon. And I think Ariala is going to like this part and the next part. ;) If you didn't get the first part, this is what happened. The first part described a guy who just went and jacked a whole room full of people. Then he went home, stuff happened that showed he was depressed. The guy had a vulpix. BIG HINT, PEOPLE! Then it cut to a funeral. It was Brock's funeral, the day after the previous scene. Then it cut to a scene that showed how Brock's family was killed, and that Jessie and James saved one of his sisters, and Giovanni ordered that they take care of her. Then Giovanni talked on the phone to a mysterious woman about how Brock's sister being saved could be used to their advantage. It's a flashback. Then it cuts to the funeral of Brock's family, which happened before the first two things. It's a flashback. The cage is a rival Team Rocket group. This part is all flashbacks.  


**  
  
Descent into Rancor  
**Part II- The Scent of Rain and Rage  
  
  


**About a month after the first funeral . . .**  
Brock's hands shook nervously as he sat at the table. The woman seated across from him was indeed beautiful, and in her civvies, but he felt no attraction to her. He was too numb, for one, for any sort of emotion besides anguish, as he had been for a great deal of time. She also wasn't someone that he'd attributed all that many noble qualities to.  
  
Jessie almost felt pained as she watched his eyes respond to what she was telling him. Pain because she knew that what she told him was a partial lie, and that she could alleviate his troubles quite easily without having to drag him into their dirty business.  
  
I'm not a criminal, Brock narrowed his eyes. I can't join you--I won't steal pokémon. I'm sorry, but I don't see how becoming a pokémon thief will get my sister back.  
  
Jessie sighed inwardly. The worst was yet to come. You wouldn't be assigned to thievery, Jessie assured. James and I are thieves. You would be on a different team. You'd be an Assassin agent.  
  
Brock boggled at this as well. I don't want to kill people!  
  
Jessie continued with the speech as planned, but somewhere she hoped he would turn it down anyway. You'd only be killing the people who killed your family. The Cage. And only in places that we think your sister might be. She is their hostage.  
  
Brock leaned back, his eyes darting to the roof as they filled with tears. His lips curved downward into a frown, and he ran his hands over his face.  
  
I want to get her back, he began to shake, more than anything. Can't I call the police and tip them off?  
  
Jessie shook her head. The police won't do anything. They're bought off by The Cage as well as Team Rocket. They won't do anything to either gang.  
  
Brock considered this, but he wasn't considering becoming an assassin.  
  
I'm sorry, tears fell down his face. Even if I _wanted_ to kill someone, I know that I don't have it in me.  
  
He leaned back over, resting his elbows on the table and his face in his cupped palms. He began to feel a stinging sensation in his calf, but he ignored it. The thoughts he entreated himself with at the moment wouldn't allow him to pay attention to something of such insignificance.  
  
Jessie remained silent, then felt a tug at the bottom of her pant leg. She coughed to break the silence, then stood from the table.  
  
Take this, she ordered, handing Brock a card. If you change your mind, just go to this address. They'll be waiting for you.  
  
Brock grasped the card shakily, and watched Jessie as she walked away. James was standing at the door, leaning against the frame, and Meowth bounded up to them both from what seemed like nowhere to meet them. They left Brock sitting in the café, wondering what hell his life had become.  
  
Brock stuffed the card into his pocket after taking a good look at it.  
  
Brock? An assassin?  
  
As much as he hated the Cage, they were still human beings.   
  
But he had to get his sister back. . .  
  
Maybe he would go along with it, just to find out where the Cage was hiding. He wouldn't have to kill anyone. He would just alert the police.  
  
That had to be the way to go about it.  
  
He ran outside the building, only to find Jessie and James opening their van from the parking lot.  
  
he shouted. I changed my mind. I have to get my sister back.  
  
Jessie nodded, and opened the back door to the van.  
  
Get in, she ordered, and Brock hesitantly complied.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
**After Jessie and James delivered Katie to Giovanni. . .  
**  
The young girl got off the phone with Giovanni, tears in her eyes.  
  
one of her bosses asked her, what did he say?  
  
They killed them, she blinked.   
  
All of them? her boss stammered.  
  
Jessie and James saved one, actually, her lip twitched. And they're going to take care of her so that the Cage can't get to her. They think it would be unsafe to leave her in Shale's hands.  
  
Her boss considered this while taking a long swig of some coffee. You're a great spy, you know that?  
  
The young spy blushed. Yeah. I can't believe Giovanni doesn't suspect that I work for the Cage AND Team Rocket. I wouldn't think it would be that hard to figure out.  
  
her boss laughed, you only say that because you _know_. Your plans are air tight. He'll never find out.  
  
The spy sighed, then looked back at the phone that she'd replaced in its crook.  
  
I wish I could go back, she frowned, to the life I lived before. I feel sorry for Shale. I bet Giovanni will bait him to join now.  
  
That guy? her boss laughed. He couldn't steal or kill. He doesn't even like to battle pokémon.  
  
You don't think I know that? the spy sighed. I would consider him harmless, except that his personality isn't a failsafe.  
  
her boss blinked, intrigued. What else did you find out?  
  
I'm not sure, she pouted, but there's more to this than meets the eye. There's a reason that Giovanni wants him to join. And I don't think it's because he can play his revenge. This guy has something about him that Giovanni wants. And I have no clue to what it could be. It couldn't be because he was part of the experiments. That would be too strange a coincidence.  
  
Find out what it is, then, the boss ordered, almost daftly. Having been in the spy business for years herself, she knew the hardships her young employee would face, but she also knew that if anyone could do as told, it was her.  
  
Will do, the spy replied.  
  
And make sure you don't get killed, her boss advised. I have a feeling this could get messy.  
  
You gonna give me a gun? the spy chuckled, raising an eyebrow.   
  
Her boss laughed. What--and have our licenses revoked? Fat chance. Maybe I'll dig up a really powerful pokémon for you.  
  
the spy sighed. That's gonna save me from a twelve gauge or an assault rifle.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
**Back With Jessie and James  
**Brock hugged his knees as Jessie and James silently drove. He didn't look out the window at the road. He just stared at the floor. He didn't ask questions. He was feeling awfully flushed for some reason, and sweat beaded at the corners of his forehead. His muscles were aching slightly, and his mouth was dry. He decided that his nerves were the cause of it. But he didn't _feel_ nervous, mentally he felt as collected as he ever had; he felt like he actually had some direction.  
  
They dropped Meowth off at their apartment for some reason. Jessie announced that it was because he didn't like to see the boss without even being asked. Brock shrugged and continued to look away as the cat scampered up the driveway to the apartment building's entrance.  
  
The drive to their actual destination wasn't long after Meowth was dropped off, and Brock swallowed roughly as the car stopped. He looked up for the first time since he was piled in the car, and he chuckled.  
  
Team Rocket's headquarters was right in the middle of a commercial district, disguised as a mere office building. They were usually pretty blatant about their whereabouts, even when in plain sight, but this time they'd actually put some thought into keeping their whereabouts a secret.  
  
Brock's footsteps were excessively deliberate as he stepped out of the van. Clouds piled on top of each other above him, and he breathed the fresh air deeply. He knew he could still back out of it--except now he knew where Team Rocket headquarters was. He couldn't back out of it alive.  
  
Jessie and James strode into the building as if they owned the place. Brock wondered how two incompetents could be so cocky. Maybe they only failed at capturing Pikachu. Maybe it was all an act.  
  
They walked up to the receptionist's desk again, but the girl behind it cowered and pressed the button to call the boss before they even spoke a word.  
  
They're here to see you, she said shakily.  
  
Is anyone with them? Giovanni replied.  
  
she nodded, though he wouldn't be able to see her.  
  
Send them in, Giovanni ordered.  
  
Jessie and James strode past her, much to the gaping stares of other Team Rocket members going about their business throughout the building. Brock looked down at his feet, trying to avoid their stares for some reason. He felt naked, and was eager to get to Giovanni's office, though he doubted that he would feel much more comfortable in there.  
  
He had his hands on his forearms, appearing to be warming himself up although he wasn't cold. When they finally entered Giovanni's room he was unnerved by its darkness, and even further unraveled by the altered voice he spoke with and the fact that they couldn't see him.   
  
Mr. Shale, Giovanni began. I believe you know why you're here.  
  
I just want my sister back, Brock blurted. After that I'm out of this.  
  
Very well, Giovanni nodded. All we want is to rid ourselves of the same nuisance which had plagued you. The Cage.  
  
Brock shivered involuntarily as Giovanni mentioned that name. He started to choke a little, but bit it down.  
  
But the worst fight I've ever been in was a pretend one with my best friend, Brock stammered, how could I go from that to being an assassin? I don't think I'm the person you want. I'm sorry.  
  
Giovanni smiled, and turned his chair around. Jessie and James looked away as if the sun had just shined into their eyes.  
  
Don't look away, he smirked. I'm not Medusa.  
  
S-sorry, Boss, James blinked. It's just that--you never--  
  
You guys have done a good job lately, he shrugged. Take a couple of weeks off with pay. You can go home now.  
  
They can't go! Brock's eyes widened. How will I get home?  
  
We'll take care of you, Giovanni coughed, then pulled away the device which disguised his voice. Without the altered voice or mystique which he shrouded himself with he seemed like a bit of a squat, non-threatening, middle aged man, but appearances were deceiving.  
  
Brock frowned unhappily as Jessie and James excused themselves from the room. He began to look to the floor and hold his forearms once again.  
  
Sit down, Giovanni offered, holding his hand out to a seat in front of his desk.  
  
Brock complied, but didn't remove his hands. He didn't look Giovanni in the eye either.  
  
You know, he began, most of our assassins started out just like you. Not wanting to do it because, well, it's a tough job. But once you realize that you're actually doing a service--  
  
Brock looked up and sputtered. A service? If I help you weed out the members of the Cage, I'll just be stooping to their level! And just why did they target my poor family, anyway, huh? Why couldn't they have just left me alone, as if my parents leaving wasn't bad enough? Why--  
  
Brock couldn't speak after a moment, though. He suddenly felt extremely heated, as if he blood was trying to scald through his skin. He began to sweat lightly, and just stared ahead of him, suddenly catatonic.  
  
That's why you'd be doing a service, Giovanni said bluntly. They don't even make _sure_ that their targets are truly even associated with Team Rocket.  
  
Brock whispered, his eyes not moving.  
  
Giovanni produced a letter from a drawer. We use this for every recruit such as yourself. Take it to whoever will question you. It says that you'll be in police camp for a month. Tell them that this was your secret dream--make up some sort of lie. Report back tomorrow for training. If you can't do it after training, then by all means you should return home and forget all about it.  
  
Brock still didn't move. He didn't know what had come over him, but he was suddenly entranced. He wasn't thinking about _anything_, however. His mind was completely blank.  
  
Giovanni simpered for a brief moment, then held out the letter to Brock. He felt as if someone else was moving his hand as he grabbed the letter.  
  
Where are you staying? Giovanni asked.  
  
Cerulean city, Brock mumbled in response. Near the gym. All of us are staying there, to be safe.  
  
I'll have someone drive you there, Giovanni turned back around, his voice becoming distorted once again. Brock didn't even hear what was said. He didn't even remember anything which happened between then and going home.   
  
Brock came back to himself as he stood in front of the door to Misty's house and knocked.  
  
_What was I doing? _ He thought. _I can't go through with this!  
  
_Misty ran up to the door and looked through the peep hole. After seeing who was behind it, she threw it open quickly and dragged Brock in by the hand.  
  
After closing the door, she shakily threw her arms around him.  
  
Where were you? she shouted, obviously flustered. I thought you might have--  
  
But she couldn't finish. The night after his family's funeral he had tried to drink a bottle of bleach, and had to be hospitalized for three days. Misty was worried that he would attempt suicide again.  
  
Ash is out looking for you, she said softly, putting her head on Brock's chest. Where were you?  
  
Brock looked down, considering whether he would train for Team Rocket or not.  
  
He thought about Katie.  
  
Then he thought about having to kill people--  
  
Then he thought about endangering his life.  
  
I have a surprise for you all, he whispered to her, mindlessly handing her the letter. I'm going to police training, so that I can protect us all.  
  
He did want to protect them. He wanted to be sure he didn't have to stand by while the Cage destroyed his friends like they'd destroyed his family. So it wasn't an entire lie.  
  
Misty's eyebrows furrowed as she looked up at him and pulled away sharply. This isn't your dream! We'll be fine here, we are protected.  
  
Brock replied. We're not. I'm not going to let the Cage have anyone else I love, ever again.  
  
They won't, Brock, she said, almost desperately. Brock couldn't understand why she was so opposed to the idea, but he'd made up his mind.  
  
I have to go, he closed his eyes. Maybe I can get Katie back, too.  
  
The police are handling it! Misty shouted. They'll find her without you!  
  
Brock frowned. They've just done _such_ a great job so far.  
  
Give them time, Misty argued.  
  
Brock narrowed his eyes and grabbed Misty's shoulder roughly. What is _up_ with you, Misty? What's it to you? This is what I want to do. I'll come home on weekends and some nights. I need to do this, Misty. What do you have against it? You're acting like I'm selling my soul to Satan or something.  
  
Brock stared at her intently and angrily, but gasped in terror at himself as he let her shoulder go. She rubbed it sorely, and he stepped away from her.  
  
Misty bit her lip, not acknowledging what Brock had done. Fine, do what you want. But you know what I think about it.  
  
Brock shrugged, still shaking. He _had_ to get out of there. I will. And since I'm not getting any support from you, I think I'll go tonight.  
  
Misty shouted. Get the fuck out of here!  
  
Brock startled at this comment. He frowned, tears coming to his eyes. I will.  
  
Brock stormed out the door, thinking that he would need the walk anyway. Someone was supposed to pick him up the next morning, but at that moment he didn't care if he walked several miles and got killed. It wasn't as if it was his ultimate goal to stave away death anyway.  
  
Misty's eyes widened as the door shut in front of her. She ran over to it, the sound it made while slamming resonating in her ears like a drum from hell. She put a hand to the door and opened her mouth slightly, gathering the tears which fell down her eyes into it. She couldn't believe that _Brock _would have been so rough, and it did make her angry. However, she should have taken all the problems he was having into account.  
  
I should have just told you I didn't want you to leave, she sniffed. What the hell was I thinking?  
  
Brock began to jog, trying get away from the house as quickly as possible. If Misty didn't understand that he had to do this because he loved them and didn't want to see them hurt, then she could go to hell. He would do it for Katie.   
  
He didn't know why he grabbed her shoulder like that--he didn't _want_ to. He had no reason to be that angry. She was being frustrating, but she was Misty. He didn't want to hurt her. She was better off without him.  
  
Halfway to his destination it began to rain, and he had to throw his vest over his head before continuing. Rage tried to well inside of him--he could almost smell it. And it scared him. He tried to concentrate on the scent of the rain that pelted his cooling skin, and he melted the rage away into sadness. He'd been having strange emotions and sensations ever since he'd spoken with Jessie and James. He assumed it was because the emotions invoked by the thought of what he might have to do to reclaim his life acted as a catalyst for an avalanche of mental affection.  
  
When he reached Team Rocket headquarters he was soaked from head to toe. He had a fleeting sensation that he was drenched in blood, but shook it off as he walked up to the receptionist.  
  
I'm supposed to come for training tomorrow morning, he choked. But I decided to come early. Can I see Giovanni?  
  
The girl rolled her eyes. Without Jessie and James there, she was incredibly snotty when Brock approached her.  
  
You're not even in Team Rocket, she sighed. Come back tomorrow morning.  
  
Maybe I just won't come back at all, he narrowed his eyes, if it's going to be like this. I don't feel like being treated like shit when I didn't even want to fucking do this in the first place. So either you let me see Giovanni, or you all can just fuck off, okay? Would you like that? Would you like to just suck--  
  
Brock stopped himself. His heart began to race. He didn't know where that outburst could have come from. It didn't even feel like he was speaking for himself. He did have a sentiment that he didn't want to be there, and a sentiment that he'd have nothing to do with them if they were going to treat him badly once they got him in their clutches. But he would have never shouted such things--he collapsed to his knees.  
  
Let him see the boss, a Rocket Agent who had been listening advised. He saw the sweat which was quickly covering Brock, and he saw Brock try and come back to his feet. The agent worked in the lab, and had a feeling that Giovanni would be very interested in seeing this person.  
  
the receptionist frowned. But if I get in trouble for this, your ass is mine. You know he doesn't like to see people this late.  
  
Trust me on this one, the agent put a hand on the receptionists shoulder.   
  
Brock finally came to his feet and just walked off in the direction that he remembered Giovanni's office was. He would settle this with him.  
  
The receptionist rolled her eyes and called Giovanni.  
  
Some nut case is coming to see you, she grumbled. I didn't say he could. Want me to call security? He's that guy that came with Jessie and James earlier.  
  
Let him come, Giovanni replied quickly. And if you ever see him again, let him come in here whenever he wishes. I should have told you this earlier.  
  
she sighed, then let go of the speakerphone button. Yeah you should have, she began to shake.  
  
Brock was too bold for his own comfort as he threw open the door to Giovanni's office. Giovanni smiled as the timid young man he saw earlier threw himself down in a chair without reservation.  
  
How can I help you? Giovanni smiled, turning his chair around.  
  
I just have to stay here for the night, Brock grumbled.   
  
You don't want to spend tonight with your friends? Giovanni asked. You might not see them for a while while training.  
  
They don't care, Brock lowered his eyes to the ground. I--I'd better not stay there, anyway. I haven't been feeling like myself tonight.  
  
It's probably just the stress, Giovanni sympathized. This isn't something to be taken lightly. We've already chosen a partner for you to work with. I can have someone escort you to training camp. You can meet your partner and spend the night there.  
  
Brock stammered, calming down from the angered high he'd experienced earlier.  
  
Giovanni eyeballed Brock strangely, and Brock looked away nervously.  
  
Would you like something? Giovanni offered.  
  
Brock blinked.   
  
You know, Giovanni smirked, for the stress? It'll make you feel better, help you sleep.  
  
No thanks, Brock closed his eyes. No drugs for me right now. I don't think I'll have trouble sleeping.  
  
Very well then, Giovanni nodded, then called for someone to drive Brock to his new home away from home.  
  
Brock leaned back in the chair, running his hands over his face, wiping away the sweat.   
  
Maybe he should take Giovanni's offer, he felt like he was out of control. He never could have imagined getting such an attitude problem from being stressed, but he knew he sure as hell didn't want it.  
  
But then again, maybe he would need it if he was going to be shacking up with a veteran Assassin.   
  
So he just sat there until someone came for him. It was an agent pair he'd never seen, and they took particular pains to be cautious around him. It must have been because they knew what camp he was headed for.  
  
Brock was sullen as rain pelted his neck. His head remained down to the ground the whole way out from the building and into the back seat of a van. He wondered why the members of Team Rocket all drove vans, but it didn't really matter.  
  
Brock wondered if he was ever going to return home. He couldn't imagine not ever seeing his friends again.   
  
But how could he have hurt Misty like that? If anything he'd always desired to hold her gently or kiss her--  
  
He shuddered, and began to cry all over again.  
  
It wasn't as if he'd had a chance with her before, but he couldn't even retain a small amount of feeble hope which his heart just couldn't suppress. If he couldn't be trusted to be gentle with her, why would she ever want him?  
  
He had to give them up. It would be dangerous to stay with them now anyway since he was going to be with Team Rocket. And he was just dragging them down by staying. They'd been attacked several times by the Cage. It was part of the reason he'd agreed to see Jessie when she asked him to meet her at a restaurant.   
  
He didn't know how he even retained his health after trying to kill himself so many times. He knew he'd developed an inhuman tolerance for pain after being sliced and had his insides burned out. Maybe that would help him now.  
  
He assumed they'd let him use a gun now. But would he shoot himself? Somehow before he always knew he'd be saved before he would actually die. He probably never actually went through with it because of Katie.  
  
And probably because of Ash.  
  
And definitely because of Misty.  
  
But he wasn't helping them any by sticking around. No one wanted pure depression in their midst. Company doesn't love misery, though the reverse might have been true. Maybe with something to occupy his mind he'd be better when he could return to them.  
  
The sound of the raindrops flooded his mind as the car screeched down a dirt road. The camp wasn't near civilization. How long had they been driving? Time flowed away from Brock like a forked river. He didn't care how far away he got from the people he loved. It really didn't matter.  
  
Slip. Slide.  
  
The ground was a trough of mud. The van was having a hard time gripping it, and even in low gear it lacked the necessary torque.  
  
_Maybe we'll hit something and explode.  
  
_Brock closed his eyes wearily as the van never seemed to sprawl out into nothingness. He could tell when the wheels bumped along asphalt again, and knew they'd reached their destination unharmed.  
  
The Rocket Agents didn't say a word to Brock, but they let him out of the van. Brock followed them to a gaggle of small, poorly lit buildings which surrounded a large clear space. The buildings were portentous-looking as they came closer to Brock's vicinity. That's how he felt. As if they were moving closer to him rather than the other way around.  
  
He was soaking wet as the agents dropped him off at one room. They had said something to him, but he wasn't listening.  
  
The floor was cold as steel as Brock threw his shoes into a corner. No one had bothered with carpeting in these rooms. Probably a small step used to keep assassins insane enough to do what they had to.  
  
Brock just stood by the door sopping wet for a time. What was he supposed to do? He had pajamas in his backpack, but the person on the upper bunk was awake.  
  
Are you going to change? he asked.  
  
Brock looked up toward the voice. It was familiar, but he couldn't place it. He didn't reply to it, either.  
  
Get to bed, the person grumbled. You annoy me just standing there like that.  
  
His words traveled around Brock, and he continued to stand.  
  
the guy muttered, then jumped out of bed and flipped on the light.  
  
Brock's eyes shied away from the yellow flood which dilated throughout the room, and he couldn't get a good look at his new partner.  
  
the guy laughed. You're the new guy? I know you! You used to hang out with that loser Ash Ketchum!  
  
Brock's head snapped around, and he grabbed Gary by the neck.  
  
He's not a loser, Brock's eyes narrowed.  
  
Gary smiled although the air was being choked out of him.  
  
You take things too seriously, he gagged for air, then kicked Brock in the stomach.  
  
Brock let Gary go and instinctively grabbed his stomach.  
  
Why did he try and choke Gary? It was too strange for words.  
  
But then again, he felt too far gone. He was observing his actions objectively from far away, unable to do anything about it.  
  
Brock lunged for Gary, trying to punch him. Gary dodged some blows and took some, apparently testing his adversary.  
  
Finally, Gary swung for Brock's jaw. There was a great clattering sound, and though it wasn't broken, it felt like it. The punch sent waves of pain all through Brock's head, and he fell to the ground.  
  
Gary stood over him, shaking his head sadly. I know how you feel, but we have to control it. Don't let him give you nerve calming medicine again unless we're actually going to do something.  
  
Brock was puzzled at this statement. He was covered in tears of pain, and looked up at Gary shakily.  
  
Thank you, Brock sniffed.  
  
You're fucking weird, Gary laughed while Brock silently passed out.  
  
********  
  
Get up lazyass! Gary shouted, punching Brock in the arm.  
  
Brock tried to yawn, but the pain in his jaw wouldn't let him.  
  
Brock's face flushed as he pulled away a blanket. He was still on the ground, but Gary had covered him in a blanket in his unconsciousness.  
  
We'll miss breakfast if we don't get there soon, Gary muttered. I already let you sleep in later than I should have! Get up!  
  
Brock shook his head and did as he was told. He was begining to feel like himself again. He must have slept whatever demons had taken possession of his soul away.   
  
I'm so sorry, Brock coughed. I didn't mean to--  
  
Don't worry about it, Gary sniggered. Though you are pretty pathetic if _I _can kick your ass. We're really gonna get razzed today.  
  
Brock cocked his head in curiosity. He was already dressed, and his clothes had dried in the night. It was a pretty filthy way to go about things, but he just stood up and followed Gary out the door as he was.  
  
They started walking toward one of the larger buildings in the area. The scent which it omitted made it obvious that the place was a mess hall. Brock winced against the mud which his feet plodded through to get there. The area was awfully desert like. It was a perfect spot to do illegal things and go unnoticed. The sky was still overcast, but it retained its moisture for the time.  
  
Brock swallowed. I don't normally act like that. I don't know what came over me.  
  
Gary sighed. It was the nerve medication. It makes you uninhibited. But you'll get used to it.  
  
But I refused the medication, Brock blinked.  
  
Gary spun around to face him. Fuck, if you act like that without medication, I'm gonna have to kill you.  
  
Brock's lip began to quiver, I _don't_ act like that! I'm not a violent person, I swear!  
  
You must have been doped up somehow, Gary shrugged. What were you doing when you started to act like that? It usually takes a while to have an effect the first time anyway.  
  
Brock suddenly stopped in his tracks.  
  
Don't stop! Gary grabbed his arm. I'm starving!  
  
I was at a restaurant, Brock frowned, and my leg started to hurt--  
  
Brock hopped on one foot while pulling up his pant leg. Sure enough, there was a needle-like wound on his calf.  
  
They did it to me! he shook. Jessie and James! They drugged me! They made me hurt her! They made me hurt--  
  
Gary frowned. I don't think Giovanni usually lets field agents do it involuntarily. Shit man, you should nark on them.  
  
Brock looked to the ground, walking once again. I'll never be able to face her again. I have to leave! They tricked me! I can't stay here--  
  
Whoa whoa! Gary's eyes widened as he held up a cafeteria door for Brock. Eat first, then we'll talk. Don't get yourself worked up, you'll have withdrawals. And don't cry. They'll think you're a puss forever.  
  
Brock bit his lower lip and took this advice to heart.  
  
No one was in line for breakfast because Brock and Gary were so late. There wasn't much to choose from either, but Gary didn't complain as he grabbed two muffins, a carton of milk and glass of orange juice. Brock didn't feel hungry and didn't grab anything, so Gary threw his extra muffin and the carton of milk at him.  
  
You'll need them, Gary insisted. Training is hard.  
  
I'm not going to do it, Brock looked away. They turned me into Satan last night. I don't want that to happen again.  
  
Gary looked up at Brock with a serious look on his face. Tell me, he began. What's your name? I never paid much attention to Ash's friends.  
  
Brock muttered.  
  
  
  
  
  
You can call me Oak, Gary began, no one gets called by their first name around here.  
  
I'm not going to be around here much longer, Gary, Brock snorted.  
  
Tell me, Shale, Gary continued, ignoring Brock's comment. Why are you here?  
  
Because the Cage killed my family, Brock frowned, and still have one of my sisters.  
  
Your reason is even better than mine, Gary sighed. They _tried_ to kill my sister. She's in the hospital now. I just want to get them back. I don't know why they wanted to do anything to her, but I won't let them get away with it.  
  
Brock looked up at Gary. I should call Ash, he'd want to go visit her.  
  
Gary began to laugh. She'd really like that. Geez, poor May. In love with a loser.  
  
Brock startled. In love? She likes Ash?  
  
Gary looked up at Brock slyly. What? You really think I just pick on him because of the pokémon rivalry? Ha! I don't even care if his mom is fucking my grandpa either. The old man needs to get laid.  
  
So you're just being protective of your sister? Brock blinked. I never would have guessed! Well, I don't know her either.  
  
Gary smirked, taking a huge bite from his muffin. Dey uthsta hang oud a lot-- he swallowed, because we all lived in Pallet Town. You know that. Well, she told me one day that she liked him, and he's gotten on my nerves ever since.  
  
Too cute, Brock smiled. I can call them, can't I?  
  
Gary became sullen. After training. You still want to leave?  
  
Brock bit his lip. I dunno. Maybe I'll stay tonight. But if I don't like it, I'm out of here.  
  
Gary nodded. We'll get those bastards back--together.  
  
Brock began to pick pieces off of his muffin, not even noticing when a small group of trainees walked up to the table they sat at.  
  
Hey Oak, one of them sneered. Got a new girlfriend?  
  
Gary rolled his eyes. Brock startled and looked up at the group.  
  
Oh if only you were so lucky, Gary sneered right back. Go away Bucket.  
  
Awww, but you haven't introduced us yet, he prodded on.   
  
Brock remained silent as Gary pointed to him.  
  
This is Shale, Gary smiled, Brock the Rock. He'll break your head open like a rock. So fuck off.  
  
Brock flinched very visibly at the end of Gary's statement, and he sweatdropped. Why did his name have to rhyme with rock? He just wanted to disappear.  
  
Bucket sneered. We'll see at training.  
  
Bucket then slapped Brock on the back hard enough to cause him to choke on the muffin he was eating. Bucket's lackeys all started to laugh, and Gary ran over behind Brock to make sure he was all right.  
  
You think it's funny now, Gary shook his fist, but I'll rip your nuts off at training!  
  
Gary felt bad for drawing negative attention to Brock, so he was trying to bring it back to himself.  
  
You couldn't rip the wings off of a fly Oak, Bucket laughed as Brock was able to breathe again.   
  
Gary sighed and they walked away. He patted Brock on the back lightly, but Brock stopped coughing and waved him away.  
  
I knew you were all bark and no bite, Brock shook his head, his voice still scratchy.  
  
Gary frowned. These guys are all older than me. So they pick on me. You're young too. I'm sorry if they bother you now, because of me.  
  
A strange look suddenly passed over Brock's face, and he turned to Gary. I won't let them kick your ass Gary.  
  
But I thought you wouldn't fight, Gary blinked. Are you going to let them inject you?  
  
I don't think I can, Brock admitted, but I've never had anything against protecting a friend before.  
  
Gary considered this, then held out his hand to Brock. It's nice to have someone to get my ass kicked with.  
  
Brock took Gary's hand and shook it firmly. I've never had the pleasure of getting my ass kicked before you did last night, so I guess one good turn deserves another.  
  
Gary went back to sitting across from Brock and finished his breakfast quickly. Brock had to throw away about half of his when breakfast was over and they had to report to training.  
  
Gary dragged Brock back to their quarters quickly by the arm.  
  
You'd better put something on that you can fight in, Gary advised.  
  
Brock scratched his head as he tried to kick the mud off of his shoes while outside the door. It's not like I have a whole wardrobe in my bag.  
  
Then just throw off your vest I guess, Gary frowned. I'll have to talk to Gakstro into getting you something else.  
  
Brock slowly walked over to the lower bunk and did as told, looking away while Gary changed into a black tank top and warm-up pants.   
  
Isn't it a little cold for that? Brock asked when Gary had finished.  
  
You get warm when you exercise, Gary threw a few swings into the air. I'd let you borrow some of mine, but you're way too tall.  
  
What I'm wearing suits me fine, Brock shrugged. feeling a little chilled at the absence of his vest.  
  
You're also a huge fashion mistake, Gary chortled bluntly. But it's all right. I like you anyway. Now let's cut out of here.  
  
Brock frowned, wondering what was wrong with his clothes as he followed Gary into the center of all the living quarters. About twenty people were gathered there, though only three were girls. Brock guessed that not as many women found the occupation of assassin quite so appealing as men. It was just as well since he was too distraught over what he'd done to Misty to flirt with anyone else anyway. And it would be pointless without her there to drag him away.  
  
Gary grumbled, pulling him somewhere by the arm once again. We have to check in! His voice suddenly softened as he continued. And you have to tell them whether you want that shot or not.  
  
God no! Brock spat, watching as the men who had harassed them earlier dutifully allowed their arms to be punctured.  
  
It doesn't thrash you so much if you're actually doing something after using it, Gary coerced. It'll help you focus while you fight.  
  
It won't make me feel pissed enough to kill someone? Brock blinked.  
  
Oh it will, Gary smirked. But you have to learn to control it anyway. It's useful once your body gets used to it. Trust me on this one.  
  
Soon enough they were at the front of the line, and Gary took his shot readily. He rubbed the soreness from his arm quickly, then waited for Brock to finish.  
  
the shot administrator asked.  
  
Brock replied.  
  
You're not on the list, the person looked up at him suspiciously.  
  
I mean Shale, Brock shook his head. I forgot that you go by last names.  
  
The person sighed, then looked on her list. She put down the shot she had in her hand and grabbed one from another box.  
  
Brock blinked. Why is that different?  
  
You're new, was all she said, and Brock didn't even have time to argue before the needle was in his arm.  
  
Brock appeared stunned as he jogged with Gary over to where everyone was warming up. He was sweating as he anticipated flying off the handle, unable to control his emotions, but as he mindlessly imitated the kicks and punches and other stretches being done around him, nothing seemed to happen.  
  
He did jump about seven feet in the air when someone tapped him on the shoulder.  
  
He cowered as he looked up at the clipboard-weilding person that stared down at him angrily.  
  
You brought your pokémon? he frowned, pointing to Brock's belt.  
  
Gary was eavesdropping, and he winced for having forgotten to tell Brock to leave them in the room.  
  
What else would I do with them? Brock stammered.   
  
Hand them over, the man insisted.  
  
No way! Brock shouted, growing protective of his pokémon.  
  
Pokémon training is tomorrow, the man growled, today is hand to hand combat! You cannot have your pokémon with you!  
  
You should have told me that earlier, shouldn't you? Brock growled back. His skin began to feel warm, and a light pain sensation tingled along his skin, as if his blood wanted to escape his capillaries. He began to shake, recognizing the sensation immediately.  
  
The man had his fist pulled behind his back, and Brock stood defiantly. However, Gary broke ranks and stood in front of Brock, chuckling apologetically.  
  
He's new, Gary insisted, he won't _use_ his pokémon. I'll make sure he leaves it in our room on non-pokémon days next time.  
  
The man still seemed angered, but dropped his hand. All right Oak, but he's gonna get it if he doesn't listen next time.  
  
Awww, fuck off! Brock shouted, pressing his luck. He sighed as he realized that the drugs were affecting him again.  
  
Everyone stopped what they were doing and watched as their supervisor turned back around to face Brock.  
  
You're gonna have to learn some respect, his eyes narrowed, and he balled his hand into a fist once again.  
  
You guys are the ones who asked me to be here, asshole, Brock shouted back.  
  
The man blinked, stopping suddenly. What's your name, kid?  
  
Brock the Rock Shale, Brock snarled.  
  
The man looked to the left of him nervously, then looked back at Brock. He had to hit the kid, or no one would respect him--  
  
Then Gary jumped back in front of Brock. Hold up Voki, he asked, he's talking out of his ass I swear, he couldn't pull the wings off of a fly. He's not used to the drugs, I'll talk him down.  
  
Voki almost seemed relieved, and put his fist down. All right, Oak, but I don't normally make these kinds of exceptions. You'd better keep him in line or I will kick his ass.  
  
I'd like to see-- Brock began, but Gary put his hand over Brock's mouth tightly.  
  
He'd like to see us work together, Gary smiled almost painfully, and Voki sneered then walked away.  
  
You were right, Gary shook his head, you'd better not use the drugs anymore.  
  
Brock let out his breath after Gary removed his hand. That was so--not--me.  
  
I know, Gary sighed. If that was you then you would have beat the crap out of Bucket this morning. Just try and concentrate on your temper and lay low, all right?  
  
Brock swallowed hard and nodded. Thanks for saving me.  
  
Gary smiled. No problem. Just don't get me killed with ya, okay?  
  
Brock closed his eyes and nodded.   
  
They went back to warming up, but were then put into two lines in the middle of the clearing.  
  
A thin, heavily scarred man walked up and down the lines. He did it twice, almost ritualistically, then put his hands behind his back and stood on the far end from Gary and Brock.  
  
That's Gakstro, Gary whispered to Brock. He's a real baddass. Don't piss him off, he won't listen to me like Voki will. Gakstro is our trainer.Voki supervises.  
  
Brock nodded, still facing forward.  
  
We're going to do an exercise in tackling, Gakstro said loudly. On the count of three, you'll try and take down the person across from you.  
  
Brock's eyes suddenly focused on the person across from him. It wasn't someone he'd seen before, but he blanched as he saw who was across from Gary. Bucket was slamming a fist into his palm as he eyed Gary hungrily.  
  
Brock pursed his lips. He didn't even notice that Gakstro had given the signal, and he was down for the count without even putting up a fight. His head knocked against the ground, dizzying him, and he accidentally grabbed his attacker's arms while trying to steady himself.  
  
Aren't you sweet, the guy who pinned him raised an eyebrow, then licked the side of Brock's face.  
  
Brock threw the guy off of him about eight feet. He didn't know where the strength came from, but he didn't really care. He wiped the saliva from his face disgustedly and walked back over to Gary.  
  
Who was that freak? Brock shuddered.  
  
He's really pervy, Gary replied, but didn't turn and face Brock. You'd better watch out for him. I can kick his ass all right, but he's pretty good.  
  
Brock walked over to stand in front of Gary, wondering what was wrong. Brock's eyes narrowed as he saw that Bucket had left a huge, gaping slash across Gary's forehead.  
  
We're going again, Gary looked at the ground after hearing Gakstro yell at them to get back into battle position again.  
  
Brock began to shake, and he put Gary in his place. He didn't want to stick Gary with the perv, but he figured that throwing perv-man across the ground had weakened the jerk. Gary did say that he could kick the guy's ass, after all.  
  
Brock focused all of his energy on the guy standing across from him. Bucket laughed as Brock crouched into a springing position, his hands twitching as they desired to pummel the guy.   
  
Gakstro shouted.  
  
Bucket was awfully casual, standing jocularly as Brock rushed him. However, his casual attitude turned into a struggle for survival as Brock dropped Bucket to the ground and began pounding his face. Bucket's mouth was bleeding from both corners, and Gakstro was shouting for Brock to relent, but Brock didn't hear anyone else. He didn't stop until Gary physically shoved him off of Bucket.  
  
Brock rolled onto the ground, and Gary punched him in the mouth as he lye.  
  
Get a hold of yourself Shale! Gary ordered, grabbing Brock by the collar. You were supposed to wrestle him, not kill him!  
  
Brock took in a deep breath.  
  
Thank you, he sighed, then passed out again.  
  
*********  
Brock moaned, my jaw is going to break if I don't stop going crazy.  
  
Gary said softly, holding a cold rag to Brock's jaw.  
  
Brock looked around him. They were back in their room, and rain was pounding steadily at the windows.  
  
How long was I out? Brock whispered.  
  
A long time, Gary whispered back. I called Ash and Misty for you. I'm glad he's going to go and visit my sister. He can't be all that bad. He was really worried about you.  
  
Brock frowned. I can't go on like this. I have to be in control of myself. Especially if I ever want to see them again.  
  
You will be, Gary nodded. I don't think they'll even want to give you those stupid drugs ever again. But I don't understand--you got this terrible strength all of the sudden. The drug isn't supposed to do that. You could have killed me. Why did you let me knock you out?  
  
I wanted to be knocked out, Brock confessed. The guy is a jerk, but I didn't want to kill him.  
  
You did get him good, though, Gary chuckled. He had to get stitches too. I don't think he'll ever bother us again.  
  
Brock pulled Gary's hand away from his face and sat up. He eyed Gary's head.  
  
Brock frowned. You had to get stitches for what he did to your head?  
  
Gary shrugged. I've had more stitches than a letterman's jacket. It's all right. At least Bucket got a taste of his own medicine.  
  
I'm glad I didn't start attacking you, Brock sighed. But it's not like I just go off for no reason. Something has to instigate it. I guess I just wasn't mad at you at the time.  
  
Damn good thing too, Gary chuckled, then looked up at Brock thoughtfully. But I didn't think you would have hit me back. After all, I was the reason you started pounding that guy.  
  
But I hurt one of my best friends, Brock looked down at his fidgeting hands. That's not something I'd _ever_ want to do.  
  
Did you almost kill him?  
  
  
  
  
  
Brock's hands stopped for a moment. No, I didn't. I just--grabbed her shoulders. But God, I've never been mad enough to touch someone to hurt them before. They gave me a different drug, because I'm new' they said. Maybe that wasn't why.  
  
Gary frowned, I'll tell them to give you the real stuff sometime. Or maybe a cigarette. Whatever.  
  
I think I want to just leave, Brock confessed.  
  
Gary put a hand on Brock's shoulder. If you have to, I won't try and stop you. But I think after everything settles down you're going to be really good. You do have it in you.  
  
I have too much of it in me! Brock shouted, putting his face in his hands.  
  
Gary soothed again, then pulled Brock's hands away from his face. I'll keep you in check. As soon as I know my family is safe I'm out of here.  
  
Me too, Brock frowned. That's the only problem. I want to leave, but I want to fight for the people I love.  
  
If they keep giving you that crazy shit, I'll leave with you, Gary affirmed. But will you stay with me until we find out for sure?  
  
Brock agreed, then closed his eyes and changed the subject. What time is it?  
  
About two am, Gary smiled. I thought I killed you there for a minute.  
  
I wish you had, Brock sighed.  
  
Don't say that, Gary ordered, then left the rag with Brock. It's been a long time since I've had a friend. Even a fucked up one. Get some rest.  
  
Brock closed his eyes and considered what Gary had said. Sleep didn't come easily, but eventually he did drift away into the night, letting the rain carry him into his dreams.  
  
------------------------------------  
We can't keep giving it to him, Gakstro panicked. I don't think he'll let us, and it makes him go crazy! He almost killed one of our best! I don't understand it, though, because he let Oak kick his ass, but--  
  
If he won't take it then slip it to him in the night or in his food, Giovanni slammed his fist. He will be worthless to me unless he gets a full week of the drug! After that he'll be containable and you can give him the normal syringe.  
  
Gakstro's face fell. I trust that you know what you're doing, boss.  
  
I do, Giovanni said gruffly, then cut Gakstro off of the line.  
  
This is going to be more difficult than I thought, Giovanni sighed, then sat back in his chair. He picked up the phone again, as he'd done all too many times recently.  
  
It had better happen fast, Giovanni growled into the phone.  
  
The voice on the other end seemed mildly surprised.  
  
Because the catalyst is making his temper unstable, Giovanni frowned. You said all of the changes would be physical!  
  
That shouldn't be happening, the woman blinked. I guess his immune system is reacting adversely to the chemicals. Not to worry--it should be like any drug and have a lessened effect over time. Maybe because we didn't get him back four years after the susceptible age.  
  
We never would have had to coerce him in the first place if it wasn't for that stupid Ketchum kid, Giovanni sighed. We should have programed the father clone better. He acted too much like the real Flint Shale would have.  
  
We cannot change fate, the woman's lackidasial voice replied. If you wish, we can just train him for the five more years it would take for the changes to occur naturally.  
  
That won't be an option, Giovanni blinked. I need someone powerful enough to take on the K project now. I was very disappointed when the Oak kid turned out to be a false lead for the good experiment.  
  
Our sources are not always correct, the woman robotically defended herself. We were almost positive that he was the lost one. Will the Shale kid not suffice?  
  
He's a loose cannon, Giovanni snarled. Of course a failed experiment will not suffice. He might be good enough for now, but once the drug settles down his conscience will return, and then what? I won't be able to control him.  
  
You have no patience, the woman stated. You are controlling him externally. He won't let you down as long as he doesn't know where his sister is. Maybe you could give him a lower dosage of the catalyst. It would only take about two weeks longer to work. We can salvage him. Maybe my team can develop something that will inhibit his immune system while the catalyst does its job.  
  
You're doing a good job of saving your ass, Giovanni laughed. You'd better get to work on that. I want it by tomorrow, hear me?  
  
Of course, the woman nodded. I'll mix it in with the catalyst before I ship it to the training camp tomorrow. Of course, he might get sick with something while his immune system is down. And you know Gakstro won't let him out of training because of the flu.  
  
I'll make him, Giovanni shrugged. Any luck figuring out which of my agents is really a spy?  
  
A little, the woman nodded. We have it narrowed down to ten.  
  
When you have it narrowed down to three, Giovanni clenched his teeth, send them all to me.  
  
Will do, the woman nodded again.  
  
Giovanni flipped off the phone and clasped his hands together. His plan had to work. Team Rocket would be finished if he didn't have Shale and the other one on his side. He'd spent too much time and money and anguish on them. They were his failsafe in case his real nemesis ever got to be too much for him to handle. The assassins he already had could deal with anything that needed to be taken care of quite easily. He didn't need a new assassin, or even a assassin. He needed someone that would be able to remedy his terrible mistakes. He'd sealed his doom with experiments before, but he thought he'd try and save his ass with them. He almost wished he could alter all of his agents instead of creating all new ones to do the job, but gene programing had to be done before birth. He couldn't stand the thought of not being able to control someone that could sense when they were about to be attacked. Perhaps he was going in over his head. . .  
  
  
*****a/n**: Hey! You wanna know why I made Brock's last name Shale? Well, I think that Slate is tooooooo Flinstones. There was NO WAY I was using that. I like Harrison, but it has nothing to do with him, and most Pokémon last names have to do with the person in some way. Shale is cool sounding. It's a rock, but it's not something hideously obvious, in my opinion. In the next part--more training flashback, and more of everyone else. The big questions: what exactly is going to happen to Brock when the catalyst is done taking its effect? Who is the good experiment? Will all of the assassin trainees be afraid of Brock and Gary, or will they want to kill them? I know I posted this before, but then I realized that I didn't put enough info in it. Before it seemed like the shots were making Brock turn evil, but he's just having a bad reaction to them. And he's *not* turning into a pokémon, that's overdone. I mean, I've read good they turn part pokémon stories, but this ain't one of them. I think that would be too easy to figure out from what's happening so far anyway. The catalyst is actually doing something else. But you should have gotten that much from the first part!! And what experiment gone awry before is Giovanni's nemesis?


	3. The Scent of Anxiety and Approaching Sto...

**  
**

Descent into Rancor  
Part III- The Scent of Anxiety and Approaching Storm  


  
  
Come on, Ash, Misty shouted. Visiting hours don't last forever, ya know.  
  
I know, I know, Ash pulled on his last shoe while hopping around aimlessly on one foot. It at least gave the semblance that he was getting ready, in any case.  
  
Ash grabbed a folded piece of construction paper from the dresser in the room that was his and Brock's--now his for the time being--and ran out to greet Misty.  
  
I'm coming! Ash shouted, then ran down the hallway and into the living room.  
  
I thought _girls_ were supposed to take longer to get ready, Misty smirked.  
  
I was finishing something,Ash retorted, holding up the folded piece of construction paper. I started it last night after Gary called, and I had to finish it this morning.  
  
Misty smiled. Let me see that.  
  
Ash shouted, hiding it behind his back.  
  
Why not? Misty asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she walked nearer to Ash. Is it a loooove letter?  
  
Ash blanched quickly. It's a get well card! Duh!  
  
How cuuuute, Misty teased. A homemade get well card!  
  
Ash looked away, well, she was a good friend growing up. I want to give her something special. Gary said she's pretty bad off.  
  
Misty sighed, then put a hand on Ash's shoulder. I'm sorry for teasing. Let's just go, all right?  
  
Ash nodded. Pikachu jumped onto his shoulder, sensing that they were going to leave, and the three of them piled into the community bus. It had been waiting for about two minutes, and was part of the reason for Misty's rush, since she had pleaded that the driver stop and wait while Ash got ready. Ash had thought it would be too dangerous to go out, but Misty insisted that they couldn't stay bottled up forever.  
  
It wasn't a terribly long trip from Cerulean City to Pallet Town, but Ash was fidgety on the bus just the same. They had to walk about a quarter mile to the hospital, but Misty also insisted that they could use the walk. Ash was made confident by Misty's steely-nerved disposition, which made the trek through the cheery streets much easier. The skies were just clearing of clouds from the storm which had rolled in the night before, though another was due to arrive within the next few days.  
  
Upon entering the hospital doors Ash immediately ran to the gift shop. Misty sighed as he bought a very expensive floral arrangement and a teddy bear for her, and he ran back out to Misty just as quickly.   
  
What kind of a dork visits someone in the hospital without bringing presents? Ash grinned.  
  
That's really sweet, Ash, Misty commented, mostly because she knew Ash was becoming strapped for cash, and that he probably just spent the remainder of his stash on those two small things.  
  
Ash seemed strangely nervous as they walked up to a desk to ask the number of the room May was staying in. Gary had told them which building and room, but Ash forgot to write the room number down in his fervor to get off the phone. Misty had thought it was out of immaturity and that he didn't want to talk to Gary, but she was begining to think that it was from absent-mindedness induced by concern.  
  
Did Gary say exactly what was wrong with her? Misty asked as they waited for the receptionist to get off the phone.  
  
No, he just said she's been in here for a long while, Ash looked up to the sky.   
Something to do with the Cage. You know, Misty, I don't think I blame Brock for trying to do something about it. He's been so depressed anyway, I think anything would be good to put his mind on something else.  
  
Misty's eyes widened at the mention of Brock's name, and she whirled around to Ash.   
  
It's not _about_ whether it's good for him or not, Misty began to wring her hands. Look, I just can't explain it. I have my reasons for being mad at him for leaving!  
  
Ash grinned smugly, but didn't have time to spout his own theory since the receptionist was now on the phone and impatiently waiting for Ash and Misty's attention.  
  
Can I help you? she muttered.  
  
Misty nodded, we're here to visit May Oak--could you tell us where we can find her?  
  
Ash clutched his offerings more tightly as he thought about how the people he loved had been preyed upon. He didn't know what _he_ could do about it. He knew that joining the police was definitely not his thing, but he couldn't stand by while the world around him was hacked to pieces.  
  
Misty received directions while Ash buried himself in his thoughts, and he followed her mindlessly as she led him to their desired destination.  
  
Ash closed his eyes and swallowed as Misty opened the door. He still didn't know what exactly was wrong with his friend. Was she in a coma? Hooked up to a million machines? What could make it so that she'd have to be in a hospital for a long period of time.  
  
Ash entered the room as if it was a vacuum, allowing Misty to hold the door open for him. She had peered in, then allowed Ash to enter first. She didn't know May, after all.  
  
Ash smiled brightly for May as he looked in, and had to fight letting it fall as he saw her lying on the hospital bed. He blinked a million times as he quickly put the things he brought on the counter most convenient to him, and he then dashed to her side.  
  
Oh no! she sobbed weakly. I don't want you to see me like this!  
  
Ash frowned. My poor May!  
  
Pikachu and Ash both ran over to where May was, but Pikachu hung back after Ash began to hover over her bed. The little mouse must have sensed the tension of Ash's aura from seeing his friend in such a state, because it leaned comfortingly against Ash's leg.  
  
Ash's heart began to pound erratically, almost like a metronome playing the off beats to the heart monitor May was hooked up to, which began to beat faster as well.   
  
She was covered in scars, and she had casts on both legs. Her throat had a long, thick scar across its front as well, and though her face was relatively unscathed, the Cage's emblem, which was naught more than a ball and chain, was carved into her forehead. Ash's breath was short as he grabbed for May's hand, and ran the other through her hair. He had to close his eyes as everything around him seemed to blacken. She must have had more extensive injuries which were not visible since she wasn't allowed to return home, so he was gentle as he pressed himself to her in a hug.  
  
May began to cry softly as Ash pressed his cheek to hers.  
  
Ash flinched. Of course I want to see you! You're beautiful--nothing could take that away.  
  
May shakily put her arms around Ash as well. I've missed you, a lot, since you left. I've been wanting to see you, but I'm a freak now--you'd--you'd--  
  
Ash pressed a finger to May's lips, then softly kissed her cheek. You're not a freak. Don't get all worked up or I'll have to leave.  
  
Did my Grandpa tell you to come and see me? May whispered, both in shock from having been kissed, and trying to calm down.  
  
Ash shook his head. No, your brother.  
  
May's eyes widened. I haven't seen him in so long! If you talk to him again, tell him I miss him.  
  
You mean he hasn't been coming to visit you? Ash raised an eyebrow.  
  
May shook her head. He did at first--but he was so mad because of what the Cage did, he swore he'd get them back and joined a police academy. When he first joined I saw him sometimes, but now he spends all his time in training. He hasn't called me for about three weeks. I know he's doing it for me, but--  
  
Misty walked into their conversation nervously, but she couldn't help herself. He joined a police academy' because of this too? Did that just seem weird to you?  
  
May nodded. It was weird, but I was happy for him, because he'd been so _angry_ all the time I thought it would be good if he had something to focus on, I don't want him to ruin his life just because of me.  
  
Misty looked to the ground, then nodded and sat in a chair.  
  
Don't worry May, Ash shook his head. Between Gary and my friend Brock, I'm sure that the Cage will get their asses kicked. Ash winced again, then had to wipe stray tears from his cheeks. And I'll do anything I can, too.  
  
Misty turned away as Ash leaned over to kiss May on the cheek again. Misty closed her eyes and rubbed her arms for warmth, though she wasn't _that_ cold.  
  
_Oh Brock_, she thought. _Don't get yourself killed.  
_  
Misty didn't know what would become of him since she wasn't around to keep him from killing himself, but that wasn't her main concern at the time.  
  
Ash and May talked for quite some time. Misty had never seen Ash act so delicate toward someone, and it would have warmed her heart, but she was stiff as ice from thinking about her last encounter with Brock. Would it be her last ever?  
  
They had to be ushered out as visiting hours ended. Ash promised May that he would visit the next day. Misty smirked at how his inhibitions about traveling away from his mom and the gym fled when his heart was pulled in another direction.  
  
The skies were darkening in the final stages of twilight while Misty and Ash walked back to the bus stop. They checked their surroundings frequently, and that quarter mile between the hospital and their stop stretched into a thousand leagues under the sea as the hair upon their necks were raised by goosebumps, and every breeze which stirred their hair caused chills to ramble down their spines. Even Pikachu had caught wind of the move, and it balled itself closely to Ash's neck as they kept walking.  
  
Misty wouldn't have been so apprehensive except that Ash was more nervous than what could have been humanly normal. She didn't know Ash to be a chicken, so it bit at her nerves sorely. Ash seemed to be preparing himself for the inevitable, and Misty found herself walking closer to him as time strolled by.  
  
The buildings which surrounded them left momentarily for a stretch of forest to pass by along the road. Misty scanned her surroundings as if she was taking a test to get her driver's license, her hands balled into fists, waiting to lash out, as if they would protect her from the weaponry that the Cage possessed.  
  
The silence which flooded the area was more unnerving than even Ash's restiveness. And the dark began to settle upon them even more thickly.  
  
Look out, Misty! Ash shouted, and Misty didn't have a memory to piece together between Ash yelling that and being shoved onto the floor.  
  
Misty looked up wildly, feeling as if she'd botched her job. However, Ash was unscathed, and she was free to jump up from the floor and forcibly keep Ash behind her.  
  
The sight which greeted her was disturbing, to say the least. She shuddered as her eyes graced a steel-gray creature which resembled a mewtwo, except a current of black lightning seemed to travel up and down its body. Something was definitely wrong with it as its arms reached below its legs as it floated, and it didn't have any eyes.   
  
Was the first thought to enter Misty's mind, and the first thing she shouted.  
  
Oh no, Ash closed his eyes. It _was_ a mistake to come out here.  
  
Pikachu shouted, attempting to shock the creature.  
  
The creature dodged the move, and laboriously lifted one of its hideously long arms.  
  
Its voice was robotic, but it indeed did speak. It said, mimicking Misty.  
  
Ash dove to recover Pikachu as energy began to well in the creature's paw, but Misty shoved them both out of the way, taking the brunt of the attack on her leg.  
  
Misty shouted as an electricity-like psychic wave traveled through her body. Get out of here, you guys!  
  
Not without you! Ash shouted, almost in frustration. As if he could leave a friend behind.  
  
The creature powered up again, and Misty tried to rush it, to divert its attention from Ash and Pikachu.  
  
She closed her eyes as she ran, and expected death to come quickly.  
  
However, her efforts were unnecessary. The creature began to shake violently, and a _real_ electrical current began to race through it. Misty fell to the ground not a foot before the thing, and Ash pulled her away from it, dragging her on her rear.  
  
Ash's arms were still around Misty's waist when the creature fell to the ground. The current stopped, and a black whip which had been curled around it was visibly retracted.  
  
Misty pushed Ash's hands away and stood up, ready to face their savior, just in case they incapacitated their current enemy for other than good intentions.  
  
Three tall people dressed in black spandex jumped down from a tree. Ash couldn't tell whether they were male or female, though they were quite slender. In the black of night distinguishing features weren't quite so distinguished.  
  
Pikachu jumped to its feet once again, its ego a little bruised from not being able to handle the strange creature itself.  
  
Get out of here, one of the ninja's hissed, still keeping his or her gender from being decipherable. It is not dead.  
  
Misty nodded, suddenly trusting them. Ash didn't question it, and they did as they were told, never looking back as they ran toward the bus stop.  
------------------------------------------------  
  
Brock woke up groggily, but earlier than Gary. He walked out of their quarters quickly and wandered around in search of the showers. Gary hadn't had the time to show him around, and he didn't know where the bathrooms were. This was becoming a problem. He walked toward the cafeteria first, hoping that the buildings were clustered closely together.   
  
He was right, but had to hobble about seven feet to a building beside the cafeteria to reach his destination. It was a relief, as is easily imagined.   
  
Brock walked over to the sink and turned the water on cold. He cupped his hands under it, then splashed it onto his face. It felt good against the burning inside his jaw, and as he looked up at the mirror, he realized it was because a huge black bruise had formed on his cheek. He gingerly lifted up his hand to touch it, and it felt soft and tender beneath his fingers. A shot of pain raced to his brain, but it felt strangely soothing. He tapped the sore again gently, shuddered, then went back to washing his face.  
  
He was alone in the room since hardly anyone on the planet would voluntarily wake as early as he had. He dropped off his clothes in the sink, then walked into a shower. There were no curtains, since while in boot camp privacy isn't of the proprietor's greatest concerns, so he was glad he was such a morning person. He fumbled for shampoo and soap in his backpack with leisure, and closed his eyes, letting the warm water stream over his face as he lathered his hair. He'd felt stained and dirty, and he relished in being cleansed for the first time in a long while. Soap traveled over his body as he tried to quickly finish before anyone else would enter, but felt strange as his thoughts were drawn to Misty and Ash. He did miss them, even though he'd only been away for two days. He especially wanted to mend things with Misty, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to her. He was too ashamed.  
  
Brock turned the water off slowly, but toweled himself off quickly. He thought about the pokémon battles he would have to face that day, and how he wasn't sure his pokémon could handle it. He wasn't a seasoned trainer--he wanted to take care of pokémon. The only pokémon of his which fought well were Onix and Geodude. Zubat would fight, but Brock hadn't trained him well. Vulpix was a little antsy around anyone except for him, and Brock didn't want to risk her getting hurt.  
  
Brock didn't even notice he was wrestling with trying to pull his clothes onto his still damp body since his mind was so far away. He should have trained harder. At least he wouldn't need one of those godforsaken shots to do pokémon battle--  
  
Brock hopped around on alternating feet as he put on each shoe. He had put on a new set of clothes, and although he was wearing his vest, he shivered as the morning chill hit his damp skin. The ground had dried out, but it still cracked under his feet as he ran back to his and Gary's room.  
  
Brock entered the room and his ears began to ring in the silence. He didn't have breakfast to make or anything to keep him busy, so he started to unpack his things into the drawers in the room.  
  
Gary muttered, sitting up. It's only 5:45, Shale, we don't have to get up until seven! Get back to sleep.  
  
I always wake up this early, Brock sighed, but decided he was being too noisy and lay back down on the bottom bunk of the bed.  
  
Gary's lip twitched. I just might have to kill you after all.  
  
Brock shrugged.  
  
Gary rolled his eyes, and he looked down at Brock, his head hanging down and the blood rushing to his brain. I was kidding, cut it out with the suicidal stuff.  
  
Brock closed his eyes, then changed the subject. I'm gonna get my ass kicked when we do pokémon battles today.  
  
You were a gym leader! Gary laughed. You're gonna be just fine. Besides, those losers aren't that interested in pokémon battling. I can usually whip them all just with my eevee if I wanted to.  
  
Brock suddenly whirled on Gary. Hey--you said you didn't pay much attention to Ash's friends! How did you know that I'm a gym leader?  
  
Gary grinned sheepishly, blushing slightly. Well, as any good future pokémon master would--I kept track of gyms and their leaders.  
  
Oh yeah? Brock grinned, who is the leader of the Blackthorn City Gym?  
  
Gary stuck out his tongue.  
  
  
  
Gary stared in thought for a moment, then sighed. Well, I'm not quite as familiar with Johto, okay? I've put my aspirations aside, for the time being.  
  
Brock nodded sullenly. I know how you feel.  
  
Gary smiled gently, then yawned. Well, I still need sleep, unlike you, you crazy fuck. I don't know how I'm going to survive Hell Week with you.  
  
Brock's eyes widened. Hell Week?  
---------------------------------------------  
  
Jessie shouted, walking in the door with two pizzas in hand. I'm finally home!  
  
James rushed to the door and grabbed the pizzas from Jessie, feverishly throwing them onto the table and began opening the boxes, looking for the flavor that he had ordered.  
  
James yanked a huge slice of pizza with Canadian bacon topping and began shoveling it into his mouth.  
  
he chuckled, strands of cheese flapping around near his chin, but it sounded more like since his mouth was full.  
  
Jessie grumbled, whacking her partner over the head with a fan. You're a dumbass. Do you know what I had to go through to get this? They made me wait _forever_, and then I got the wrong toppings and had to send it back, and then I put a quarter in the Centipede game and the stupid thing ate it, so I started beating it up and they yelled at me--  
  
James was obviously not listening, so Jessie sighed and called to the other members of the household down the hall.  
  
she shouted, Katie! The pizza is here!  
  
Jessie shook her head at James, then grabbed a pizza for herself. She was almost through with it by the time Meowth and Katie entered the room.  
  
It's about time, James gurgled through a full mouth, this is gonna get cold.   
  
Meowth looked up at Katie, but Katie just stared at the floor.  
  
Come on, Meowth smiled up at her, cocking his head slightly and grabbing her hand. Ya gotta eat. You'll feet betta, I swear.  
  
Katie shrugged.  
  
James stopped eating to look at the floor, and Jessie turned to look out the window.  
  
You haven't eaten in two days, Jessie's eyes turned to the tiny girl she was speaking to. I know you're grieving, but you can't kill yourself like this.  
  
Katie turned away from her, crossing her arms.  
  
Jessie's first reaction was to become angered, but she squelched the notion and put a piece of pizza on a plate.  
  
Ya gotta be hungry, Meowth tugged on her sleeve. Come on, just a bite for da Meowth here.  
  
Katie closed her eyes tightly, pulling her sleeve away from Meowth.  
  
Jessie looked to James, who simply gave her a sympathetic glance.   
  
I'll tell you what, Jessie began in an almost sly manner, if you're a good girl and eat your pizza and you try and make it through the rest of the month, I'll see if I can get the boss to let you see your brother. He should have enough training to take care of you in a month anyway.  
  
Katie brightened at this and turned around to face Jessie.  
  
All right, she said softly. Just one piece.  
  
Both Jessie and James grinned widely, and Katie walked over to the table with a happy Meowth at her feet.   
  
_It wasn't really a lie_, Jessie told herself. _There's no reason she can't see him at the end of the month. Training only lasts that long anyway.  
--------------------------------------------_  
  
Brock began to sweat as the man tossed a ball confidently into the air, catching it over and over and over again, waiting for Brock to choose his first pokémon.  
  
Don't fail me now, he whispered to the ball he finally chose. He figured that he should probably try and level some of his pokémon other than Onix and Geodude, but he was wondering if it was a bad choice.  
  
Go Zubat! Brock shouted, releasing the flying pokémon into the air.  
  
Go Machop! his opponent winced, regretting the choice.  
  
Zubat, confuse ray, now!  
  
Machop, karate chop, now!  
  
Zubat's move hit first, and Machop ended up punching himself in the jaw.  
  
Finish it off with wing attack! Brock smiled, knowing that this was super effective against fighting types.  
  
Zubat shouted, slapping the little fighting pokémon around with its wings.  
  
Machop fainted promptly.  
  
Good job, Zubat! Brock praised.   
  
Zubat cooed, flapping around in a little victory dance.  
  
All right, the defeated opponent grumbled, let's see that stupid bat handle this! Go, Spinarak!  
  
Brock raised an eyebrow at this choice. Gary was right--they didn't know anything about battling pokémon. Flying versus bug would be a breeze.  
  
Wing attack again, Zubat! Brock pointed toward the spinarak.  
  
Scary face, Spinarak! the other guy ordered.  
  
Spinarak barred its fangs and bugged its eyes out at Zubat, and Zubat stuck its tongue out and bugged its eyes out back, then beat the spider into submission with its wings.  
  
Brock was practically on the ground laughing. He never knew his zubat was so funny.  
  
Great job, Zubat! Brock praised inbetween laughing. That was too funny!  
  
His opponent didn't think it was very funny, though.   
  
All right, he grumbled, I'll get you this time! Go, magnemite!  
  
Not to worry, Brock grinned. Zubat, return!  
  
Zubat returned to its pokéball, and Brock grabbed another.   
  
Go, Vulpix! Brock shouted, though some of the surety in his voice subsided.  
  
his opponent said smugly. Fire isn't good against electricity!  
  
It's good against steel, Brock retorted. He wanted to add dumbass' to the statement, but refrained from doing so.  
  
The man's face fell, but Brock was uneasy yet.  
  
Lock-on, magnemite! the man ordered.  
  
Brock almost laughed.   
  
Use ember, Vulpix! Brock ordered.  
  
Vulpix began to power up for ember, but as she released fire at her adversary, it evaded the attack.  
  
Magnemite, thunderbolt! his opponent grinned.  
  
Brock wondered the purpose of lock-on since thunderbolt wasn't a move which often missed anyway, but he already questioned the intelligence of his adversary.  
  
But, Vulpix was down and out after the thunderbolt attack. The guy was too happy for words after this, which irked Brock.  
  
Brock scratched his head. Go onix! he shouted.  
  
Onix left his pokéball, and Brock's opponent's face fell immediately.  
  
Not fair! he whined. Isn't there a size limit?  
  
Brock frowned. Onix, use dig, now!  
  
Onix began to burrow underground.  
  
Use double team, magnemite! the man shouted in panic.  
  
Good move, Brock blinked, wondering if the added evasion would spare its life.  
  
Onix leapt from the ground at Magnemite. The little thing tried to dodge the blow, but was unable to. Onix practically made it blast off like Jessie and James into the air, and needless to say, it was done for--at least for that match.  
  
Brock wiped his head. I'd better get my pokémon to the center. He then walked over to his opponent and held out his hand. Good battle there.  
  
His opponent wouldn't shake hands, however.  
  
You cheated! That onix is too big!  
  
Brock rolled his eyes and sighed. Whatever. I have a pokémon center to get to.  
  
Brock turned around to walk away, but apparently the dumbass wasn't through with him yet.  
  
The guy grabbed Brock's shoulder and spun him around, causing Brock to fall on his tailbone.   
  
Brock grumbled, don't be such a sore loser.  
  
I'm not a sore loser, bitch! the guy insisted, you're a fucking cheater!  
  
The guy then kicked Brock in the stomach, and Brock grabbed his stomach in pain. The guy kicked him again, but Brock tried to handle the pain and get up. This got him a kick in the thigh, knocking him over again.  
  
Cut it out, asswad! Brock shouted through clenched teeth while the guy tried to kick him in the stomach again. What are you trying to do, kill me?  
  
At this point a crowd had gathered around the two, most of them cheering for the guy doing the kicking. Brock kept trying to grab his leg, but it just left his stomach exposed to kicking again.  
  
the guy shouted, and suddenly staggered to the side, clutching the back of his head.  
  
Come on Lennox, Gary grinned, let's see you kick someone's ass whose back isn't turned, asswipe!  
  
Lennox fumed and took a swing for Gary's face, but Gary was too quick for him, and Lennox was too angry to be level headed. Gary boxed the guy in the jaw about three times, which angered him even further.  
  
Brock was coming to his senses and his feet at this point. He was ignoring the pain in his torso, and he limped a little because of the kick to his thigh.  
  
He'd been given his shot drugs in pill form that morning, just in case. He thought there'd be no way in hell he'd take them, but watching Gary start to lose the upper hand was begining to change his mind. This Lennox guy needed to be taught a lesson.  
  
Brock had a hard time swallowing the pills without water, but he managed. He stood still and watched Gary take a nasty blow to the chest and fall down, the wind knocked out of him. Lennox had his leg pulled back, about to aim for Gary's nads, when he felt a tap on the shoulder.  
  
I'd suggest you stop that, Brock narrowed his eyes. He wasn't feeling strange yet, but he was counting on feeling that way soon. If he could feel the same way he did when he pounded Bucket, this guy would be a snap.  
  
Lennox laughed, and turned around again to punch Brock in the face. He _still_ didn't feel any different, but somehow he just tilted his head enough to avoid the blow. Lennox tried punching him again and again, and each time the blow was avoided.  
  
Brock felt as if the pills improved his evasion as if he was a pokémon. He wasn't even thinking or moving on his own volition--it seemed as if every punch and kick which hit Lennox squarely was being controlled by someone outside of his being. Lennox was hacking up blood by the time Brock compelled himself to stop. The man was on the ground shaking, his eyes opened wide in shock.  
  
What the fuck happened? Lennox groaned, right before passing out.  
  
You can fuck with me, Brock kicked him again, but when you fuck with my friends, I get mad. Got it?  
  
The crowd backed away as Brock limped slightly over to Gary. Gary smiled up at Brock weakly, and Brock hoisted Gary over his shoulders. Somehow Gary's injuries were worse even though he hadn't been fighting as long as Brock had been. Brock figured it was since Gary was a lot skinnier, and perhaps weaker. It didn't matter, though. Brock doubted that anyone would be messing with Gary for a while.  
  
I still gotta get to the pokémon center, Brock sighed, then began to walk towards it. A huge gap in the crowd formed when Brock tried to walk by, and it dispersed as he and Gary left, leaving a bleeding Lennox alone on the floor.  
  
I owe you one, Brock whispered to Gary, who seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness.  
  
Are you kidding? Gary coughed, seeing that meat head get his ass kicked is worth any number of broken ribs.  
  
Brock sighed, then walked into the pokémon center. It was a small building, much smaller than the pokémon centers of various cities. They only had one chansey and a wigglytuff working as nurses, and the of this center was a fairly unattractive guy named Maine. It didn't matter, though. They had a healing machine, and that's all Brock was interested in.  
  
Brock dropped Gary off in a seat, then dropped off his pokémon, then sat and began to rub his temples. He was glad that he was feeling normal. He assumed that it was because the pills weren't as strong as a shot. They still did _something_, that much was clear, but it wasn't something detrimental.   
  
Gary turned to Brock, we can go, there's a place for your pokémon to play and everything until it's time to battle them again. Most people leave their pokémon here anyway. It's better for them, they're not cooped up all day.  
  
Brock blinked, wondering if that was such a good idea. Did he trust anyone with--  
  
Brock looked at Gary, who was obviously anxious to leave. He was clutching his stomach, and trying to hide the fact that he was shivering lightly. Brock took a deep breath, then stood from where he sat.  
  
You're right, he said blandly, standing up. Let's go back to camp. You need some rest, anyway.  
  
Gary nodded, standing as well. He felt dizzy standing upright, but somehow managed not to faint. He just collapsed in bed. He didn't make it up the top bunk, but Brock was okay with the trade.  
  
Brock lye with his hands behind his head.  
  
he began, hopeful that his partner hadn't just passed out all of the sudden, I didn't ask you this earlier, but what is hell week?  
  
Rookie torture, he sighed. First three days they send us into the desert with nothing, not even our pokémon, and we have to survive. Who knows what we do the rest of the time. Probably a lot of getting our asses kicked, although you'll probably be doing a lot of the kicking.  
  
You're not going to get your ass kicked, Brock muttered sternly. But there's no water in the desert. What the hell are we gonna do about that?  
  
Gary closed his eyes. Maybe we'll be lucky and it'll rain again. I hear that the rest of the island has practically flooded. A little bit has to come this way. Even deserts get rain.  
  
Brock frowned, wondering exactly how far his journey to training camp had taken him. He didn't even remember there _being_ a desert anywhere nearby, but he didn't know if he had been in that car for fifteen minutes or fifteen hours.  
  
How far from Pewter are we? Brock asked, almost in a whisper.  
  
Gary chuckled, you're not going to walk back there any time soon, that's for damn sure.  
  
Brock sighed, and the sky darkened. Both he and Gary startled as lightning fiercely struck the ground outside.  
  
Maybe a sign of things to come, Brock swallowed hard.  
-------------------------------------------  
  
Brock woke before the sun had a chance to rise once again. He felt slothful as the darkened skies brought an artificial chill to his indoor flesh. He could see all he needed to through a bend in the curtain, and his feet met cold as he quietly climbed down the metal steps of the top bunk. He turned his head and looked at the contents of the lower bunk, envious of Gary's ability to sleep. He would have given up a lot to be able to achieve that kind of serenity, a childish innocence which sleep bestows even upon the most malicious of people. That look--of flaccid eyelashes which swept gently across sleep-puffed cheeks, of a mouth slightly open to breathe in the flavors of rest--this was a look Brock never had past about five thirty in the morning.  
  
He could be described as envious, at that moment.   
  
He climbed back up the bunk, feeling slightly restless. He probably should shower, seeing as he wouldn't have the opportunity for several days, as Gary had previously disclosed to him. But then again, he didn't want to wander alone out in the cold.   
  
He began to doze slightly, but was startled by Gary.  
  
I woke up before you? Gary grinned.   
  
Brock blinked, his mood suddenly almost competitive. That's not it at all. I mean, I woke up _really_ early but no one else was awake, so I--  
  
Don't sweat it Shale, Gary smirked, yawning. Oh, I'm so tired, but if we don't hit the showers now we'll never get the chance. I mean, no one is going to skip it today. They're gonna be begging for one in a couple of days. Hell--they'll be begging for water period.  
  
Brock looked to the ground. Somehow I don't think I'm going to like this.  
  
You're not supposta, Gary sighed, waiting for Brock to climb down the bunk. That's why it's not called heaven week.'  
  
Brock rolled his eyes and fumbled around in a drawer for a change of clothes and a towel. Someone put fresh towels in their dresser during training, as if they were in a hotel.  
  
Gary remained in the pajama bottoms he slept in as well, and they both dashed over to the showers, then ate breakfast, then packed up to leave. Brock's nerves were edgy, but no one harassed him after what had happened the day before.   
  
Brock tried to drag his feet to the training area, but Gary pulled him along. Brock relaxed seeing as Gary wasn't scared, but he was begining to wish that he could go home, and three days without the option of returning home was not sounding too great.  
  
The trek back to the training area seemed far too short that day, as if everything was guiding them toward their moment of false Zen. Brock lowered his eyes as everyone circled away from him and Gary, making a statement of distrust because of the preceding day's incident.  
  
Air slowly escaped Brock's lips as he stood. Their captain began rambling about what they'd have to do, but Brock assumed that Gary would listen. Brock didn't feel like listening. He just felt like staring into space, letting an image of Misty begin to crowd his mind--  
  
Gary tugged on Brock's sleeve. Come on. We're hiking now. You're just standing here staring--  
  
Brock turned to Gary, his eyebrows narrowed.  
  
Have you ever been in love? Brock asked, his voice trailing away on a sigh.  
  
Gary licked his lips and looked to the ground. I really don't want to talk about it. Why? What's on your mind?  
  
Brock shrugged. I just miss someone--right now.  
  
You won't have time to miss someone while we're out, Gary patted Brock on the shoulder. There's just gonna be you, me, and a whole lot of starvation.  
  
Brock shrugged again, and the two boys caught up to the rest.   
  
Brock was glad that his backpack was light. Some people were carrying so much weight they could hardly walk.  
  
Gary turned to Brock, his hand shielding his mouth as if it would make his voice only audible to Brock. They're stupid, Gary rolled his eyes, they're just getting worn out for nothing. All of our stuff except for our clothes are going to be taken away anyway.  
  
Brock nodded wordlessly, and he could almost hear the pills that jangled in his pocket. They'd said that it was in case they found themselves in a life threatening situation, but he had a feeling that that just might occur.  
-------------------------------------------  
  
Agent Espiritu, she narrowed her eyes, I _don't _want you getting involved in business that dangerous! Do you understand what could come of meeting one of those freaks face to face without anyone to bail your ass out?  
  
I understand it very well,Espiritu snorted, pulling a black mask over her face. I have never been one to fear a risk.  
  
I've never been afraid to throw you into a risk, in case you haven't noticed, her boss continued to fume, so that ought to tell you something! Lay low and let things smooth out themselves!  
  
You know I can't do that, Espiritu frowned, though it was invisible beneath the mask she wore. She began to pick up weapons and place them on her belt. Ketchum was attacked for a reason, I'm sure. I also have word that Shale is going to be attacked tonight. They think he can handle it. I'm just going to show up to make sure that he can.  
  
No, you're not, her boss began to shout as Espiritu slipped outside the door.  
  
I'm sorry, Espiritu whispered, closing her eyes softly. There's just nothing else I can do.  
  
_Authors Notes: No, Brock hasn't forgotten about his family. As seen by the chapter title, the next chapter will be much more angsty and all that rot. Seriously. I'm sorry this one was so short, but I've had writer's brain freeze for a long time. Later_


	4. The Scent of Whispers and Cyclone

rancor4

**Descent Into Rancor  
**Part IV- The Scent of Whispers and Cyclone  
  


  
Gary's hair which normally stood up in such a stark manner at that time was slicked onto his moisture-reeking head, and he ran his hands through it disgustedly as the shade kept retreating into the wide base of the rock. Heat flushed down onto his clothes, causing them to cling incommodiously onto his steaming skin.   
  
he grumbled hoarsely, running his hands over his face again to wipe the running sweat from its edifice. His head swiveled upon his neck as he turned to gawk at his wholly shirtless companion, and a wave of chilling jealousy swept his spine.  
  
Gary tried to get Brock's attention, if I ran around shirtless like that I'd have blisters the size of snorlax the next--  
  
But Brock wasn't paying attention. His eyes were lowered to his feet, and though his back rested upon the same rock Gary rested under, his head dwelled between his knees as he sketched something with his fingers in the sand.  
  
Gary shook Brock's shoulder gently, and Brock stammered to consciousness.  
  
he mumbled. Sorry Gary, wasn't listening.  
  
Well I can see that, Gary snapped, then softened his tone. I was commenting on how nice it would be to be able to take my shirt off. But we're not all as lucky as you.  
  
Brock mumbled, once again, being half Samoan and half Japanese helps, but lying out naked on my gym roof helped too, I guess.  
  
Gary sat agape momentarily, wondering how a mildly humorous comment could come from someone who appeared to be swimming in the furthest leagues of despair, but he found his wits again quickly.  
  
Nice to hear you say something for the first time in six hours, Gary snarled, his eyes running down the sweat streaks which climbed down from Brock's temples onto his shoulder blades.   
  
Brock muttered.  
  
That doesn't cut it,Gary snapped facetiously, I'm hungry. You're gonna have to produce some food to make it up to me.  
  
Brock leaned his head back against the rock. Hold on while I pull some food from the Pizza Hut up my ass.  
  
Gary chortled and messed up Brock's sweat-drenched locks with a playful hand.  
  
That's the spirit, Gary smiled. I knew I'd rub off on you sooner or later.  
  
Too bad it had to be sooner, Brock retorted.  
  
C'mon, Shale, Gary sighed, I know you're still in a bad way. Come on, spill it, papa's listening.  
  
Brock smoothed his hair back down from Gary's assault as he pondered, disliking the hairstyle fully.  
  
I should have taken a shower for a lot longer time this morning, he blinked the sweat from his eyelashes. Good God.  
  
You're avoiding me, Gary raised his eyebrows seductively, then inched closer to Brock. Come on candy pants, tell me what's eating ya.  
  
Brock twitched slightly, then shoved Gary over playfully into the ground. Ever call me candy pants again and you'll be digesting them.  
  
Gary punched Brock in the shoulder when he was able to get back up, at least I got something out of ya.  
  
You just don't understand, Brock closed his eyes, still able to see the sweltering mass of maize-colored, sweltering sand which whisked across the bright, sun painted horizon with his mind's eye. No one could understand.  
  
Gary put a hand on Brock's shoulder. I think I'd understand more than you think.  
  
Brock swiveled his head in Gary's direction, opening his eyes and looking at the thin, brash young man that looked up at him as well.  
  
How would you feel, Brock choked, if one day your whole family was just hacked into pieces, and then you try to go do something about it, and then you do something that makes it so you can never speak to the girl you love aga-- but he choked off on this statement, having to draw his eyes away from Gary.  
  
Gary pursed his lips. I am doing this for revenge purposes, but May wasn't actually _killed_. As for impossible love, well, let's just say that my love is just a distant crush that will never happen. But I'm okay with it. I just concentrate on one thing at a time. When my mom left us for that drunk bastard, I started training pokemon, and I just tried to stop thinking about it. I couldn't start training right away because I couldn't leave my sister alone, but once I actually--  
  
Gary was cut off as Brock grabbed his forearm, his mouth open slightly, as if in awe. Gary was almost scared as Brock wouldn't let him go for a second or two, but after this moment Brock quickly let go and turned away.  
  
My mom left me to take care of siblings too, Brock confessed. But I don't blame her. She couldn't handle being a single mother of ten when her husband left her.  
  
She was only ten? Gary startled.  
  
She had ten kids, Brock corrected. And trust me, she wasn't that old either.  
  
Gary bit his lip and looked to the ground. How did you handle it?  
  
I took care of them! Brock said firmly, suddenly sitting up straight. It was all I could do.  
  
I'll drink to that, Gary nodded, pulling a small bottle of sake from somewhere Brock wasn't quick enough to have seen.  
  
How'd you sneak that through the guards? Brock blinked, taking a sip as Gary offered it to him.  
  
They didn't do a cavity search, Gary shrugged in a manner nonchalant.  
  
Brock spit out the sip he'd taken all over Gary's already less-than-pleasant-smelling flesh. Shit Gary!  
  
Yeah, that's how I have it now, he sighed, then began to crack up laughing. I can't believe you believed that! That was worth wasting that sip! Shit Shale, you're something else!  
  
Gullible is the word, Brock snarled scratchily. Tell me the truth, then.  
  
I have my pot-pouch, he grinned, rolling up a leg of his rather baggy cargos, producing a large pocket inside the ankle.  
  
But didn't they feel it when they patted you down? Brock blinked.  
  
Gary smiled, capping the booze and putting it back in his pocket. he offered.  
  
Brock patted the area, and felt not much but a soft cottony pooch. Gary beamed with pride.  
  
It's reinforced, Gary nodded. I could put a twelve gauge in there and it would feel like I was wearing sweats underneath.  
  
You're a genius, Brock admitted. But couldn't you have sneaked some water? That stuff tastes like bubbly piss.  
  
You'll learn to love it, Gary assured, taking it back out of the clever pocket and swigging it down.  
  
The sun faithfully ascended above the rock, lapsing the sliver of shade into nothing and then re-scrawling it across the sand once again. There wasn't much but a bit of drinking and silence, the setting sun sadly flushing a pink tinge to Brock's clear, dark skin as he stood and turned to watch its humble descent. Gary's expression as he looked at the mournful Brock was a mix of concern and a jaded alcohol buzz, but for some reason water did trace itself across his eyes.  
  
Brock sat back down as he tired of watching something that would hurt his eyes anyway, and he twirled his shirt between his fidgety hands.  
  
he whispered hoarsely.  
  
Gary whispered back, stunned that his solemn companion had spoken.  
  
Would you kill me if I asked you to? Brock's voice trailed away on an air of serious contemplation, and more saline liquid traced Gary's eyes as he took another sip of his grog.  
  
No Brock, he gulped hard. I would not kill you.  
  
But I don't want to live, Brock turned away.   
  
I told you, Gary sniffed, you shouldn't have any time to be depressed right now, you should be too starving to think of such things.  
  
This has given me too much time to think, Brock argued, and I don't think I have anything to live for.  
  
Gary searched for argument, his eyes growing wide, you have to get the cage back for what they did--  
  
I've never been very religious, Brock snarled, but maybe I should let God make the final judgment. I mean, if I kill them, I'll be just as bad--  
  
You'll end the pain they bring to other families, Gary bit back a welling excitement in his throat. You'll do more good than bad.  
  
And then what? Brock furrowed his eyebrows. Let's say I wipe the cage out. Then what? What will I do?  
  
Gary looked at his feet. You'll still have me, he grinned awkwardly.  
  
You'll have something better by then, Brock assured. You have May to go home to. You can get a girlfriend. You have dreams.  
  
Gary nodded slowly, losing the inertia of argumentativeness.  
  
I'd get in the way, Brock closed his eyes slowly. I don't care what anyone says. I don't think anything lasts forever anymore.  
  
Probably not, Gary shrugged.   
  
Brock continued, more obviously holding back tears, I know now that friends won't stick with you forever either. Misty would drop me like a rock rather than just support me in what I wanted to do.  
  
I'm not like that, Gary argued delicately. Like I said before, I haven't had a really good friend in a long time. Even a fucked up one. If you died then I'd just be alone with the cheerleaders that my grandpa pays to follow me around again.  
  
Oak pays for them? Brock raised an eyebrow. Ash would d-- but he cut his statement short. I'd never tell anyone.  
  
Didn't think you would, Gary confirmed while searching the desert. Now that it's cooler, maybe we should search for some kind of food.  
  
I know a lot of indigenous edible plants, Brock nodded at his quasi-expertise, so you're in luck.  
  
And just how do you know that? Gary chuckled.  
  
Have you ever played Oregon Trail III?  
  
--------------------------------------------------------  
  
Ash muttered through a mouthful of food, where did Misty go?  
  
Daisy looked away momentarily, as if deep in thought. Like, I dunno.  
  
Mrs. Ketchum dropped her chopsticks onto her plate in surprise. She shouldn't go anywhere, it's dangerous--  
  
Is she nuts? Ash blinked. After what happened today?  
  
Daisy sighed, relax. She's probably just in the pool or something. She said she wasn't going far.  
  
She'd be stupid to go any farther than that, Violet muttered, in a voice that almost seemed totally unlike her normal ditzy tones.   
  
I know, Ash and his mother both said at once.   
  
Dinner was silenced at that moment, and Ash almost couldn't eat as he fumbled around with the noodles on his plate. His mother would have insisted that he eat it all, especially since she had cooked it, but she understood his stress and concern of the entire situation.   
  
Well then, Ash muttered, standing up from the table, I'm going to bed. If anyone needs me, just wait until morning.  
  
Ash began to walk, Pikachu on his heels after quickly finishing the rest of its food.   
The room Ash stayed in was sort of a guest room in the attic, and it smelled as if it hadn't been used for quite the good part of the century. It was a healthy smell, though. Ash couldn't quite explain it, but the scent of creaky wooden boards somehow reminded him that the world wasn't going to unravel at the seams. That attic had probably existed since the dawn of time and it wasn't about to go anywhere, and as long as Ash was in it, he wasn't going anywhere either.  
  
Pikachu stretched its tiny legs and yawned as it curled up under a blanket, but Ash wasn't ready to join it in slumber just yet. He walked over to the window, its frame illuminated by a silhouette of moonlit leaves, and he opened it. A whispering breeze jumped at the chance to come in the room, and Ash let it blow his hair back. He hadn't had the sinking sensation in his skin in a long time, but it was coming back to him, more strongly than ever. He never quite understood it, but it usually was a strange indicator that nothing good was about to happen.  
  
Ash began to become too cold, and even Pikachu shivered beneath the covers. But he couldn't quite close the window yet. He kept telling himself to do it, but continued to stare outside. Just sitting there. Not moving.  
  
Pikachu whined, wanting Ash to close the window.  
  
Ash stood to do so, not wanting to torture Pikachu enough to shock him. He grabbed the pane and looked outside for one last moment, and he thought he could see the outline of a large bladed creature on all fours scamper across the Waterflower lawn.   
  
That window was closed very quickly.  
  
Ash crawled into bed, his cold skin not yet quite able to warm up the blankets they resided beneath. He shivered and stole some warmth from Pikachu after the tiny yellow nugget snuggled close to him, but even when he had warmed up externally he couldn't shake off the chill of dread.  
  
I'm going to get up in twenty minutes, he told himself, then go in Misty's room. If she's not there, I'm a one man search party.  
  
------------------------------------------------------  
  
It was a good thing that the night flushed warm in the desert, and sleeping on the ground did no harm but rinse sand into one's skivies.   
  
The noctowl rose into the thermal air, almost unhindered by the thin person dressed in black which directed it from up top. It was quite the efficient night transport, and Espiritu Nocturna was one of its favorite spies. It could hardly get off the ground with a couple of them on its back. It was almost nice to soar over the sandy plane, ignoring the many sleeping Rocket trainees scattered across the edifice. The weather was nice and the flight was smooth and easy.  
  
Land on this rock, Griffin, Nocturna whispered into the noctowl's ear. I will walk on land from there.  
  
The noctowl complied, landing gracefully on its uniped claws and bowing down to release its passenger. It closed its austere eyes as it was recalled into its pokéball.  
  
Nocturna was silent as a persian while jumping from the rock onto the sand below with feet that were shoeless and covered only by the pitch black nylon-like material of the entire body suit.  
  
Footsteps murmured only loudly enough for a Marril to hear around the desert earth, and Espiritu Nocturna's eyes scanned the moon for the light necessary to glimpse the prey. Nothing was happening as of yet, but it was bound to.  
  
Nocturna bounded away to coil behind a boulder, waiting for the moment when it would be necessary to strike.  
  
------------------------------------------------------  
  
Gary shouted in a whisper into Brock's upturned ear.   
  
Brock muttered, his lips slightly parted as he was jolted awake by his partner. He glanced up at Gary and woke quickly as he noticed that Gary was sheathed in a fine layer of sweat when the night wasn't even cold.  
  
Gary ordered, grabbing Brock's face at the chin and hair, forcing him to pay attention to the desert's should-be-silence.  
  
What is that? Brock whispered back, his eyelids peeling back forcefully as the almost inhuman screaming could be heard in the distance.  
  
I dunno, Gary shivered, but I hope we don't find out.  
  
Brock nodded in agreement and clutched his pocket. I hope it's just a pair of assassins that doesn't know how to keep it professional.  
  
Gary smacked Brock upside the head. Are you crazy? Nobody would scream like that during sex unless they were being raped by a shark!  
  
Brock sat up, unable to handle the sound. Should we check it out? he asked, drawing some pills from his pocket.  
  
Do I always have to make decisions here? Gary sat up and put his hands on his hips.  
  
Brock nodded.  
  
Gary grumbled. We'll go over there. But if it's just Lennox being raped by a shark, we'll just come back, all right?  
  
Brock nodded.  
  
The two boys stalked off toward the sound, but they weren't too enthused about it. Brock kaiped a sip of Gary's liquor in order to swallow his pills, and he became even more visibly frightened after doing so. He didn't want to have to fight, but as the torturous noises drew nearer, he wasn't sure he'd have a choice.  
  
Hastily, Brock and Gary stumbled upon the cause of the pain.   
  
Brock choked as he stumbled and fell upon something on the ground. He raised himself onto his hands laboriously, sputtering sand from his mouth as he pulled his legs off of whatever had caused him to fall. His arms were scraped up by the fine sand, and his tongue bled as spat and sat on his haunches.  
  
he grumbled, rubbing his scraped face. What the hell was that?  
  
Oh God, Gary gasped, stumbling backwards. Shale, don't turn around, don't look--  
  
But those famous last words were soon followed by a muffled screech to add to unending screaming already taking place nearby.  
  
Shut up! Gary panicked, jumping over to Brock and covering his mouth. We don't want whatever did this to find us!  
  
Brock closed his eyes tightly, not even wanting to imagine what he'd seen, but his eyelids didn't stop the sight from being flashed through his mind.  
  
He'd never seen anything so miserably killed in his life. Sure, the guy was Bucket's miserable partner, but he didn't think he'd even want to see his worst enemy with his eyes gouged out and blood streaming into the sand from his shriveled, gutted corpse.   
  
Gary had turned around to throw up. Brock had to fight the urge to puke himself as he didn't want to lose the virility that would be provided on account of the pills swallowed previously. He was positive that it was a good choice to take them at that moment.  
  
He grabbed Gary, who was in the process of shaking and wiping his mouth, and pulled the young man behind him. Gary didn't fight being dragged by the wrists behind his friend as he wasn't even coherent enough to keep his head from lolling onto Brock's back.  
  
Hold on Gary, Brock swallowed, we're getting the hell out of here.  
  
Gary mumbled softly, a predecessor to a sob. Brock shuddered as the few tears which slid down his bare back reminded him of their evoker.   
  
It must have been Bucket screaming. But what the hell could have--what in the name of wienerschnitzel _would_ have done something so disturbing?  
  
Gary winced, let up, will ya?  
  
Brock gulped, releasing his grip on Gary's wrists as the sound grew nearer. He wondered if it was even worth it to keep moving rather than try and burrow a hole in the ground to hide.  
  
I wish I had a weapon, Brock grumbled.  
  
You _are_ a weapon, Shale, Gary nodded. But I still just want to get the hell out of here.  
  
Brock and Gary were moving away from the damage which had taken place, trying to find safety. Brock felt bad for deciding to just screw Bucket over, but it wasn't worth getting Gary killed. If something attacked them he would fight, but he wouldn't throw Gary to his death when they might otherwise have been left alone.   
  
Brock and Gary both broke into a run as the screaming stopped. They turned tail from the noise, and Brock just threw Gary over his shoulders since he couldn't keep up. The sand constantly threatened to trip him, but unlike the people in horror movies, Brock was determined not to fall and break his leg when his life was on the line.  
  
I can run I can run I can-- Gary pleaded, not wanting to Brock to become tired quickly although they were going faster than they could run separately.  
  
Shut up, Brock ordered, continuing to canter on a light-footed gait. The sand was his enemy, and he had to defeat it.  
  
Brock stopped dead in his tracks as a shimmering figure materialized before them, pressing into life as if stepping through a wall of water. It raised its arms and clouds thickened in the air, and Brock almost fell backwards in his fear. He put Gary down and forced him to stay behind his back, shaking furiously as the creature before him threw Bucket's corpse onto the ground and seemed to smile towards Brock.  
  
What the hell are you? Brock shouted, his breathing becoming erratic.  
  
The creature, unknown to him, was of the same genus of the one that had previously attacked Ash and Misty. This one was slightly less incapacitated looking, as it had rather bright eyes, and looked almost like a prehistoric Mewtwo. Its arms were of the same gorilla-reminiscent length, but they were covered in spikes. Its back had a line of plates like a Stegosarus, and it was black as the night itself, covered in swirling red, almost bloody-looking shards of lightning.   
  
It tried to say something, its voice monotonous and robotic, but neither Brock nor Gary understood what it was saying.  
  
Brock took a couple steps back, forcing Gary to do so as well. The creature didn't move, but it used telekenesis to cause Gary to float in the air.  
  
Gary shouted, and Brock grabbed his hands, pulling him as he rose into the air. Brock's feet were being dragged through the sand as he tried to keep Gary anchored.  
  
Hold on! Brock shouted exasperatedly. He pulled back on Gary as hard as he could, but since the creature's strength was mental rather than physical, it soon won out, yanking Gary from Brock's palms.  
  
Brock shouted, grabbing Gary's ankles to try to keep him grounded. But Gary was pulled away from him once again.  
  
The thing brought Gary about three feet from it. Gary's eyes shone wide in anticipation of pain, and Brock began to run as fast as possible toward Gary, but the creature did a very good job of keeping him just out of reach.   
  
Brock shouted, jumping and sobbing in his helplessness.   
  
Gary shouted back, thrashing in the air, fruitlessly attempting to escape the thing's mental clutches.  
  
Brock grabbed some rocks from the ground and began to chuck them at the creature, missing miserably. In his anger he grabbed and swallowed the rest of the pills from his pocket in the hopes that he would become quick enough to hit the stupid thing.  
  
Gary began to scream in a manner resonant of Bucket's screaming, and Brock shouted back in rage.  
  
I'll kill you! he shouted to the creature, throwing more rocks at it. Some of them actually began to hit, and the creature threw Gary down in its shock.  
  
Fight me instead! Brock goaded. Try and take me out first you bastard!  
  
The creature's anger manifested in the storm, and wind and biting droplets of ice began to hit Brock everywhere at once, cutting his skin slightly. He ignored it.  
  
The creature swooped down next to Brock, and Brock jumped at it, grabbing it around the neck. Brock attempted to snap the neck, but he was being pelted a hundred times over with the red lightning which swirled around the creature's body. Brock attempted to ignore it and continued to try and kill the thing, and he was hoisted in the air along with it. Brock's feet began to flail on the ground, and he was soon high enough so that if he killed the creature, he would fall to his death as well.  
  
Brock laughed in its face, shouting loudly above the crazed winds. You think that _death_ is going to scare me?  
  
The thing said something in its robotic tones once again, and Brock drew strength from knowing that he was sacrificing himself by destroying his enemy. He tried to twist its neck again, but wasn't quite strong enough.  
  
Brock felt the creature tugging at his mind, but it didn't have the same effect on him as it had on Gary.   
  
_The pills_, Brock thought. _They keep me from being manipulated by this thing.  
_  
Brock lifted his legs in the air and began to kick at it, the lightning slicing his arms and causing searing pain to shoot beneath his skin. The weather chilling his flesh and sending pieces of ice into his wounds. Yet he still kicked, almost enticed by the blood that was released and flowed so freely onto the ground.   
  
The creature finally realized that it needed a new strategy and began to try its hardest to shake Brock off of it. It bucked like a rodeo bull, and its red current became more fierce, ripping through Brock like scissors through paper. The wind grew more fierce. Brock held on like a piranha, but was eventually dizzied from lack of blood and plummeted to the ground.  
  
Gary shouted, using his partner's first name for practically the first time. He stood to his shaking feet and ran to where his friend was falling, his arms open wide.  
  
Brock shouted as loudly as he could in light of his weakness, no, let me fall--  
  
But Gary couldn't heed the good advice, and he caught Brock's bloody figure in his thin arms. Gary fell to the ground immediately, crushed by the weight.  
  
Brock cried, rolling off of him. Gary began to choke, and he shook as Brock put his hands on Gary's shoulders.  
  
Get out of here, Gary pleaded, using the last of his strength to grab one of Brock's hands and grip it tightly. Please. I didn't do this so that you could die too.  
  
Brock sniffed. You're not going to die! I'm going to fight that thing, and you're gonna get out of here!  
  
Don't kid yourself, Gary whispered.  
  
Brock had to release Gary's hand quickly and turn around as the creature had tried to telekenetically harm Gary once again. Brock was trembling as he stood, but he launched himself at the thing. He was nearly at its throat when it suddenly convulsed violently. Its red streaks turned white, and it was being electrocuted to death. As it plummeted into the sand, a slim figure in black could be seen behind it, retracting a whip.  
  
Who are you? Brock asked, crawling back to Gary.  
  
the person whispered, and Brock passed out on top of the still body of his friend.  
  
-----------------------------------------------  
  
Giovanni's head rested in his hands as the dead pan woman gave him a report of the night's occurrences. Three men had dragged in two carcasses--one of a small blinded creature, and one of a large powerful one. He'd ordered the smaller to be burned.  
  
That's the first time I've almost been grateful for an Espiritu, he growled, but now I have worse problems on my hands.  
  
Shale has also become sick, the woman announced casually. His weakened immune system and the loss of blood and that storm combined has given him severe pneumonia.  
  
Giovanni slammed his fist on his desk. Now he might die even if he doesn't commit suicide anyway. Have you found his partner's body yet?  
  
We have not, Dead Pan looked away. The Espiritu took it.  
  
Giovanni snarled. Shit shit shit--  
  
We will continue to administer the drug to him, Dead Pan continued, ignoring the outburst of profanity. But I think it is in all of our best interests if you allow his friends to visit him while in the hospital.  
  
They might learn too much, Giovanni frowned.  
  
We're going to tell Shale that the Mistake was an agent of the cage, Dead Pan assured. He'll go along with the story that he got hurt like so while busting a crime scene in a factory. He will say that he accidentally got pushed into a machine with blades.  
  
He looks that bad? Giovanni winced.  
  
Dead Pan said. Worse. His mental health will deteriorate if we do not let anyone see him. We have no time to lose.  
  
Fine then, Giovanni sat back. Whatever it takes.  
  
We will also autopsy the large Mistake, she announced. I'm sorry you had to lose 5607. She didn't sound very sorry.  
  
Giovanni nodded and turned off the vidphone. With only his agents to keep away the Mistakes, he couldn't afford to lose Shale at any cost.  
  
-------------------------------------------------  
  
Ash's eyes fluttered open and he looked at his alarm clock.  
  
he blinked. It was about two A.M. How could I have fallen asleep when I wanted to go look for Misty?  
  
He began to cry at his selfishness, his uncaring, his--Pikachu put a tiny paw on his back for comfort. Ash smiled weakly at his pokémon and jumped up to throw on a robe.   
  
As he reached the door, Misty opened it forcefully from the other side.  
  
Ash was stunned. He must have heard her climb up the stairs--that must be what woke him up. But at least she was safe.  
  
We gotta go to the hospital on Cinnabar Island, quickly! she shouted, nearly out of breath. I just got a phone call, Brock's been in an accident!  
  
Ash's face fell, and Pikachu jumped on his shoulder. He felt knots in his stomach as he tried to respond to her.  
  
He knew something was going to happen. Something bad. And it did.  
  
I'll get dressed, he mumbled, leaving Misty outside the door.  
  
But why was she dressed already?  
  
God knew what she was doing. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was getting out of there to see Brock, A.S.A.P. He didn't even bother to ask what kind of accident because he knew.  
  
A bad one.  
  
Ash's mom was dressed as well by the time he rumbled down the stairs into the living room, the keys to her car restlessly moving in her hands.  
  
Let's go! Misty stood up immediately as Ash entered the room.  
  
There was such a storm that night it probably wasn't a good idea to be out, but it wasn't like they had a choice.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
Brock licked the taste of pain on his lips as consciousness touched his filleted skin. His eyes didn't open immediately, his sense of touch seemed to come back first. He moved his hand to his chest where he ran his fingers through the long hair of whoever it was that was laying there. It felt nice for a time. He relaxed, felt strangely serene despite the pain which wracked him.  
  
Then his eyes snapped open.  
  
His breathing became erratic, and he stopped moving entirely.  
  
Move move, he whispered, and the sleeping girl sat up.  
  
Misty whispered back, grabbing his hand gently, are you all right? Want me to call the nurse?  
  
Brock began to cry, get away from me!  
  
Misty blinked in shock as Brock pulled away from her, cowering as if in fear.  
  
I didn't mean to be so rude to you before, Misty cried as well, forgive me, don't hate me--  
  
I don't hate you! Brock shouted. I love you! And I love Ash too! And whoever I love DIES! So please, don't come near me!  
  
Oh Brock, Misty choked up, and she grabbed his hand once again. Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere.  
  
Brock whimpered a little, tears still racing to his neck.  
  
And you're not going anywhere either, Misty whispered to herself, not loud enough for Brock to hear. 


	5. The Scent of Descent to Rancor and Acid ...

rancor5

Apuntes-- If you like this story, you should read a story called Sweet Ambrosia. It's cool. But besides that, um, the poem in this chapter is mine, and it's called Serendipity's Knife. This part clears up everything confusing about that prologue chapter, I think, although those of you less observant people will still be confused about the Espiritus. You'll probably have your suspicions confirmed in the next chapter of this story. I think it will have about eight or nine chapters before its finish. So hold on to your bottle caps, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.**  
**

  
  
A Descent Into Rancor  
Part V- The Scent of Descent to Rancor and Acid Rain  
  


Misty rubbed her temples as Brock plunged into sleep again, unable to fight the weakness which wracked him. Ash shook his head at Misty's strange suspicions as it was revealed that Brock's sickness was caused by a strange depletion of his immune system.   
  
Cough. Hack. Fever.  
  
Brock was a mess, but he was safe now. Misty even seemed suspicious of the doctors, they seemed to be giving him enough shots. Ash felt totally drained, he didn't know if he could take any more travesty within that very short month.   
  
Brock began to mutter Gary's name, but it was in a muffled voice, and neither Misty nor Ash could tell what he was saying.  
  
Misty jumped up from her chair and grasped Brock's hands in hers. Her eyes paid special attention to his parted lips and twitching eyes.  
  
I'm here, she whispered, putting a hand to Brock's cheek. You're safe, Brock.  
  
Brock felt like melting chocolate to the touch, and Misty winced. She dipped her fingers in a glass of water beside his bed and dabbled it onto his cheeks and forehead. He breathed in deeply at her touch, letting his muscles relax. He even gripped her hand back slightly.  
  
Brock said within a breath. It was almost as indecipherable as when he said Gary, but Misty understood him.  
  
You'll be all right, Misty whispered back to him, biting her lip.   
  
Ash stood up as well, not wanting Brock to think that Misty was the only friend of his who cared.  
  
Hey Brock, he gulped. I never got to say goodbye to you before, when you left. And I'm sorry for that. We've all missed you.  
  
Brock opened his eyes, looking up at his friend. He was about to say something else when he began coughing rather productively. Misty and Ash both felt sympathetic towards him, but were inclined to look away.  
  
I can't believe he got caught in a factory machine in police training, Ash shook his head. That's the last reason I would have thought he'd get hurt.  
  
Misty shrugged at Ash's comments and just seemed to watch the blood drip from the IV above Brock's head into his wrist. Misty would have gladly donated, but apparently they had some of Brock's blood type available.  
  
Ash looked up at Misty and sighed. He had desired a response, but was satiated with the fact that the general bad mood would probably cease to exist soon.  
  
Brock squeezed Misty's hand a little more, forgetting that it would be the death of her within his pseudo-consciousness. He sighed firmly, then relaxed into sleep once again.  
  
_The desert surrounded Brock once again, but this time it was free of any boulders or debris. It was night time, and the sky shone like one giant star to create a pale white countenance upon the sand, and Brock was alone.  
  
His vision was assaulted after either a second or an eternity, he couldn't tell, by that same thing that had assaulted them--him and Gary. He began to choke, trying to scream, trying to run after it, but all attempts proved fruitless. He was frozen in time, and no amount of desire in his body could lift his feet from the ground to attack it.  
  
His eyes grew wide as Gary's figure appeared in the thing's hands. Brock wanted to scream out, he wanted to save Gary, he wanted to--  
  
But want doesn't amount to do, and the creature disappeared, letting Gary fall to the ground, right next to Brock.  
  
Brock still wasn't in control of his body, and although his mind screamed no, he reached down and began to choke Gary.  
  
Stop stop stop, he told himself, I can't kill you, I don't want you to die!  
  
You're killing me, Gary said back. You killed me!  
  
I wasn't supposed to let you die, Brock sniffed, I shouldn't have passed out. I should have broken its neck--  
  
_ Misty whispered, and Brock woke at last, having a feeling that he had been saying something, but he was asleep and couldn't remember what it was. He did feel the tears which still rained down his cheeks, and he did feel Misty's arms around him as she cradled him and rocked him back and forth.  
  
What happened? Brock muttered in his delirium.  
  
You were just crying and saying something weird in your sleep, Misty responded, her voice slightly hoarse.   
  
Brock groaned, rubbing his eyes.  
  
You didn't really get hurt in a factory accident, did you? Misty challenged, pulling her comforts away from Brock.  
  
Are you saying that I'm lying? Brock frowned, feeling threatened suddenly.  
  
Then why did you keep saying I killed him' in your sleep? Misty's eyes narrowed.  
  
Brock looked up at her, searching his mind for a response, and actually derived one that wasn't a total lie.  
  
Are you sure I didn't say them? he spat, almost angrily, because it is my fault my whole family is dead now.  
  
It is not, Misty sighed, then kissed Brock's forehead gently.  
  
Brock was surprised at this action, but said nothing.  
  
_The Cage is going to wish it never came into existence_, Brock thought as Misty settled into embracing him for comfort once again. _They'll never hurt anyone I love again.  
**  
You pulled a rose's thorn through my skin,  
Then called my name and kissed it better.  
The horizon is littered with open tombs,  
Waiting for me to fall in.  
Your skin was like acid against mine,  
My tongue pushed you away from me.  
For all the damage my life has cost you,  
I repent--my blood falls from my heart to the ground.  
My blood tears through my own skin  
As I think about how you left me,  
I fall to the ground onto your cadaver,  
Desiring to melt with the dead.  
But somehow I gingerly avoid the tombs,  
I live on in a soul drained of love.  
I can live on, kicked into the waters of aggression.  
Whoever told me that life and love were precious  
Must have aimed to torture.  
They must have had destruction in their minds.  
Footsteps can explode through a thousand halls,  
And a thousand fools could gun me down,  
But I'd rather you were here to run me through.  
I always thought you'd be the death of me.  
Who would have known it'd be the other way around?  
**_****  
------------------------------------------------  
  
Rain speckled the earth, a gentle wave of would-be relief for those camping out in the desert trying to stumble their way through assassin training. However, word had flooded the desert of what had taken place between Bucket, Grell, Shale and Oak, and no one could help but feel that the sprinkles which dabbled their skin was made of blood and acid. The storm the night before wasn't even as painful as its calmer aftermath, and each darkened day was prelude to a sightless night. They wanted to act and talk tough, but fear infiltrated their minds with every wink of sleep and every growl of their stomachs.  
  
Three figures dressed in black sat on a rock, their heads hung low.  
  
Nocturna is going to get killed, the first one sighed.  
  
I dunno, the second one pondered, this was a job well done.  
  
But if the element of surprise isn't there, the third added, even just one time, I'm sure that the battle would be lost.  
  
Why must this Shale person be protected anyway? the second muttered.  
  
I think we should let him die, the first shrugged. We should let Giovanni get a taste of his own medicine, the Mistakes only want him.  
  
But we can't just let the experiments die because Giovanni deserves to get axed, the third one blinked. They are innocents. Nocturna knows this.  
  
Shale won't be innocent for long, the first announced, then climbed onto the back of a fearow. This incident may have just pushed him over the edge.  
  
I'm sure if it becomes necessary, The second's head lowered while climbing onto the back of a noctowl, Nocturna will let Shale be killed.  
  
the third's eyes narrowed while climbing onto the back of another noctowl, I'm sure if it becomes necessary, Nocturna will die first.  
  
The three said not another word to each other before flying away, trying to get above the clouds before becoming to wet or getting stuck by lightning.  
  
---------------------------------------------  
  
Weeks had passed, and Brock's pneumonia and wounds had healed to a point where he'd be able to go soon. He sat up in the chair beside his hospital bed playing on a game of electronic checkers that the roving hospital clown had delivered, just waiting for the time of day he knew that Ash and Misty would visit.  
  
Misty and Ash walked in right when Brock had expected them to--ten minutes after being dropped off by the bus around the corner.   
  
Hey Brock, Ash smiled, then walked over to look over Brock's shoulder. Are you winning?  
  
Of course, Brock smirked.  
  
Misty walked up to Brock sullenly, her hands behind her back. I heard you're going to be well enough to leave in a couple of days, she softly pointed out.  
  
Brock nodded. I'll finally be able to get out of this hospital gown.  
  
What are you going to do, Misty gulped,   
  
I need to get back to police training, Brock responded immediately. My injuries were all flesh wounds, I'm not permanently damaged, so I should be all right.  
  
Misty's eyes widened, you need more time than that to recuperate! What if you get hurt again--  
  
Don't worry about me, Brock replied, suddenly serious. There are still some things that I have to take care of.  
  
You're not going to be able o get rid of the Cage by yourself, Misty gritted her teeth. You should stay with us, you should _be_ with us! Why can't you understand that!  
  
The only thing I understand, Brock lowered his head, is that you want to keep me from doing what I need to do. Look Misty, I'm doing this for you guys! I don't want you to be hurt, I want to be able to--  
  
We don't need protection, Misty's breathing quickened, you do! We're not the ones in the hospital covered in scars right now!  
  
Misty, it's not your decision, Ash tried to interject, only to receive the glare of death from her.  
  
Ash is right, Brock folded his arms, chucking his game on the bed. It's my decision, and I'm doing what I need to do.  
  
You don't need to! Misty fumed, then slammed her way out the door.  
  
Ash turned to Brock, wincing as he watched his friend stare blankly at the door, a tear stumbling down his face to the nape of his neck.  
  
Ash whispered, she'll get over it.  
  
I don't understand, Brock frowned. What did I do to make her so mad? I--I just want to help--  
  
I think she misses you a lot, Ash nodded. I think that's her problem. She wants you to come home with us, because--  
  
Brock looked away and swallowed hard.  
  
If I tell you something, he said raspily, do you promise not to tell?  
  
Ash nodded immediately and stepped closer to Brock.  
  
I want to come home too, Brock confessed, and--I love her. It's so ridiculous, I know, we should be like brother and sister, but it's not. I want to just be with her, but I _can't_. She doesn't understand. The Cage has taken too much away from me, I can't lye down and do nothing after they destroyed my life.  
  
I understand where you're coming from, Ash nodded. I thought Misty would too. We're all people who take action. But she has a bad feeling, or something.  
  
Brock shook his head then climbed back into bed. He suddenly wasn't feeling so hot.  
  
Ash furrowed his eyebrows, I have a bad feeling too. You should just come home.  
  
Nothing doing, Brock barked flatly. I'm going back, and that's all there is to it.  
  
Ash stood up, shaking his head. All right, have it your way. But I don't want to see you dead, Brock. That's all.  
  
I'd probably be better off, Brock muttered inaudibly, looking away from Ash.  
  
Come again? Ash turned his head.  
  
I'll be all right,Brock assured.  
  
Ash frowned. I'm gonna go find Misty.  
  
Brock nodded, then turned away, crawling under the blankets. He felt chilled inside and out, chilled and alone.   
  
I'm sorry, Gary, he sighed, I'm sorry, everyone. He then closed his eyes.  
  
------------------------------------------  
  
Well Mr. Shale, the doctor flipped through his notes, you were going to be released today, but we've been informed that you told someone that when you got out you were going to kill yourself. I'm sorry, but you're being transferred to the psychiatric ward.  
  
Brock's face contorted into all shades of existing anger, and he sat upright, letting his anguish flush nearly purple across his confused face.  
  
Who the hell said that? Brock clutched at his blankets. I said no such thing!  
  
I'm sorry, the doctor shrugged, we have to take these things seriously. If you don't feel that way you'll be released after your evaluation.  
  
So any stranger can just come up and get me committed? Brock nearly began to froth at the mouth. Is that it?  
  
The doctor sighed. Just come along, we're not allowed to disclose that info--  
  
It was Misty, Brock shouted, wasn't it? She's trying to keep me here, isn't she?  
  
Calm down, the doctor ordered, or we'll have to tranquilize you to take you away.  
  
Son of a bitch! Brock shouted. I'm being held captive by my own friends!  
  
Calm down, the doctor said even more sternly, this is your last warning.  
  
Oh stop acting like you wouldn't be just as pissed if one of your friends committed you, Brock wrenched his arm away from the doctor. I hate hypocrites.  
  
the doctor held up his arms, we'll do it the hard way.  
  
The doctor called for assistants on his walkie talkie, and two brawny men sauntered into the room.   
  
Take him to the psychiatric ward, the doctor snorted.  
  
Oh no you don't! Brock screamed, running backwards in the room. I'm not going with you, I'm getting the hell out of here!  
  
The two men looked at each other, then advanced upon Brock.  
  
Brock knew that he wouldn't be able to run or hide, so he grabbed the first guy he could reach and pile drove him into the ground.  
  
the guy groaned from where he lye.  
  
Wanna piece of this? Brock shouted to the other would-be captor.  
  
Not today buddy, the guy shook his head, then drove a needle into Brock's arm.  
  
Brock shouted, trying to pound on the man, but he soon became disabled from movement.  
  
Let's get this nut job out of here, the man who Brock had floored stood up and grumbled angrily.  
  
Brock lolled helplessly as he was carried down the hallway, and he saw the faces of Misty and Ash. They looked very concerned.  
  
How could you do this to me? Brock whispered, a tear slipping to his chin.   
  
I love you Brock, Misty sighed, I did this for your own good.  
  
_I'll never speak to you again_, Brock thought, unable to respond to Misty.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
You have a visitor, the woman announced. Would you like to see her?  
  
If it's Misty, Brock spat, tell her to burn in hell.  
  
This person's name is Cassidy, The woman replied. Not Misty.  
  
Brock choked, then by all means, show her in.  
  
Cassidy entered the room, followed by a guard for her protection. Brock was determined to be dangerous and violent, and nobody was allowed to see him unless some burly jerk with tranquilizer in tow accompanied them.  
  
Come to tell me that the boss' thinks I'm a failure? Brock frowned.  
  
Cassidy looked around, motioning to Brock that she couldn't tell him what she needed to with the guard around. She leaned in to his ear, but the guard became more on guard and came closer to the two.  
  
Cassidy gritted her teeth, I'm a Judo black belt. I won't die. Give me some privacy.  
  
The guard said nothing and backed up, a tiny bit.  
  
You want out of here? Cassidy whispered flatly.  
  
No shit, Brock whispered back.  
  
Be by the window at midnight, Cassidy replied.  
  
I don't have a watch in here, Brock announced.  
  
Don't go to sleep tonight, she hissed, just wait by your window. But you can never speak to any of your friends again. Do you still want to go through with this?  
  
More than ever, Brock's eyes narrowed.  
  
Cassidy nodded. Make sure no one else is in here either.  
  
Will do, Brock nodded.  
  
Cassidy then kissed Brock on the forehead. It alarmed him, but then he realized it was for show to the guard.  
  
I miss you darling, Cassidy blinked sweetly. I hope you're better soon.  
  
I miss you--too, Brock stammered out, unable to fake the emotion. I can't wait to get out of here.  
  
Cassidy left, and Brock watched the door she left from carefully for a moment.  
  
What's a dish like that want with a whack job like you? the guard chuckled.  
  
I'll give your fat ass a whack job if you don't get the fuck out of here, Brock threatened.  
  
Ooh, I'm scared, the guy laughed, then closed the door, locking it behind him.  
  
It's gonna take a week to get to midnight, Brock frowned, putting his chin in his hands. I wonder how they're gonna pull it off.  
  
Brock spent the time between hell and escape watching the TV which was behind an unbreakable plastic pane. He couldn't decide the channel, they didn't trust him with a remote. It must have been because he tried to beat the hell out of a guard with the last one.  
  
Is anything unbreakable? Brock wondered, eying the plastic pane, then eying his fist. Because I'd like to cause these people as much pain as I can.  
  
He was about to try and shove his fist through the plastic pane when he decided that he shouldn't start anything. Not that night. He just had to be patient, and soon his hell would be over.  
  
He'd never in his life felt as angry as he had that night. He'd never ever wanted to just hurt anyone as much as the people in that hospital. Maybe Misty was right. Maybe he belonged there. He thought he was just becoming violent because of the anger the most recent events had instilled into him. Maybe it was because he didn't have Gary there to balance him, like he'd balanced him so well.   
  
As soon as I finish my business with the Cage, Brock whispered, imagining that Gary was sitting next to him, I'm coming with you.  
  
One of the doctors watching the patients in the surveillance room saw Brock talking to nothing beside him, and wondered how such a peaceful young gym leader could have fallen so hard off the edge.   
  
Brock lye back on his bed for the rest of the night, wondering how Misty could have hurt him so badly.  
  
_And then what? Brock furrowed his eyebrows. Let's say I wipe the cage out. Then what? What will I do?  
  
Gary looked at his feet. You'll still have me, he grinned awkwardly.  
  
_ Brock shook his head. I wiped you out first. Poor, misguided Gary. Thinking that such a dumbass could be his best friend.  
  
Brock sat up, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth.  
  
_ I know how you feel, but we have to control it. Don't let him give you nerve calming medicine again unless we're actually going to do something.  
  
Brock was puzzled at this statement. He was covered in tears of pain, and looked up at Gary shakily.  
  
Thank you, Brock sniffed.  
  
You're fucking weird, Gary laughed while Brock silently passed out.  
  
_His times with Gary were short, but his death was probably the last hell his mind could possibly handle.  
  
_Brock bit his lip. I dunno. Maybe I'll stay tonight. But if I don't like it, I'm out of here.  
  
Gary nodded. We'll get those bastards back--together.  
  
_Not together, Brock swallowed, but I will get those bastards back. That's a promise.  
  
Night shrouded the day, and Brock breathed it in with anticipation. He couldn't wait to get out and do what he had to do and be done with it. He felt strange, looking so forward to death when he could have so much more life to drink from if he chose. But he would have nothing to live for if the Cage was gone. He'd have no revenge, and definitely no friends.  
  
Midnight rolled around the room like a brushfire, and Brock's arms rested haplessly against the window as he awaited his release. His mind felt crushed and trampled against the weight of hell which had been strapped to it. But he wouldn't have to think of that anymore--after he'd be able to escape.  
  
_Tap tap.  
  
_Brock startled as someone pawed at the window he leaned against. It was covered in bars on the outside and plastic on the inside, so he had no idea how it could be used as an escape route. He wasn't about to doubt the abilities of Team Rocket, however.  
  
Brock stood back as a light shone in his face, and the wall beside him began to crumble. He jumped out of the way as a small explosion caused it to collapse, and was coerced into jumping onto a helicopter.  
  
Nice evening, isn't it, Shale? Giovanni grinned, stepping toward him and helping him into the chopper.  
  
Brock felt awkward taking the man's hairy hand, but gained his confidence back as soon as a couple of grunts chucked a bomb into the room he had fled.  
  
Awesome evening, Brock grumbled, sitting down dejectedly on a seat provided for him. The helicopter was obviously the play toy of someone filthy rich, and Brock could feel the luxury of the seat provided for him leak into his skin as he felt the fabric. It had been too long since he'd been able to sit on something besides an indestructible cot, and it felt wonderful.  
  
You're officially a dead man, Giovanni grinned, handing him a glass of champagne. The grunts chucked a bucket of blood into the room before the helicopter took off. Tomorrow you'll be known as nothing but a stain on the ground. How does it feel?  
  
Like freedom, Brock replied monotonously, sipping his champagne. So am I going back to training?  
  
Giovanni just kept on grinning, you're beyond that. Someone who can survive an encounter with a Mistake is far beyond rookie training. You'll have your own apartment, like all the other Rocket members.  
  
Brock's lips remained on the edge of a glass as he looked up at Giovanni, his expression indebted in puzzlement. What is a Mistake? How the hell did the cage get those things?  
  
Experiments gone awry, Giovanni snarled, the first fall his face had taken from his previous grin. They called it project K. They're going to try and use them to get rid of you. They're scared.  
  
Bring it on, Brock narrowed his eyes, swigging down the rest of his champagne. I'll fuck them up.  
  
There's the attitude, Giovanni nodded approvingly. But we know you'll be very successful once you're trained to use the big guns.  
  
Show me to Brock crushed the glass he was holding with his bare hand.  
  
Giovanni's face contorted as Brock destroyed it, but he didn't lose his temper. He knew that Shale had been given shots that didn't deplete his immune system while in the hospital because his assistant felt like he'd be too weak to cause much damage. It didn't matter at that point, however, because the shots were over and done with. And his assistant was right--he had been controlling Shale externally. And maybe the disappearance of Oak had actually done more good than damage. Everything was going his way.  
  
---------------------------------------------  
_A day after the funeral. Brock's funeral.  
  
_The gun Brock twirled between his palms frightened him, if it did anything. He breathed in slowly as he pressed it to his forehead, then brought it back down again.  
  
_Someday_, he thought, pointing it away from himself. _I gotta control it now.  
  
_He didn't know if he'd be able to kill anyone, but it was his goal at the time. He was already going to hell or being reincarnated as a booger for what he did to Gary, and he knew that. So there should have been nothing holding him back.  
  
It was still raining lightly and steadily as it had been for the past couple of days, and it felt like a cleansing acid upon Brock's skin. His hair was flopping onto his forehead as it weighed down by water, and he twitched lightly in nervousness as he slicked it back away from his eyes with a trembling hand.  
  
_I'm gonna have a nervous breakdown_, he thought, breathing in ragged breaths as he finally gathered the strength to open the door to the bar.  
  
Sans protection such as a bullet proof vest or even thick clothing, he unloaded his weapon on the bartender. Screaming, running, and drawing of weapons ensued, but Brock's mind had fled him. It didn't seem like it was him who dropped everyone in that bar quickly and easily, not being hit once by the numerous rounds fired at him. Somehow he could anticipate everyone's moves, and thus avoided them.  
  
How did I do that? he asked himself aloud as his gun seemed to stop firing upon its own volition and the bar was naught but a desert covered in blood and unmoving carcasses. He dropped his weapon and ran out the door, ran for his life.  
  
Tears began to flow more thickly than the drizzle from the clouds which painted the sky dark, and he had to stop and throw up all over the brick wall of the building before continuing. The rocket members waiting in the van around the corner turned away as Brock relieved himself of the contents of his stomach, and they feared him.  
  
Brock dizzily stumbled into the van, immediately curling into the fetal position as he did so.  
  
What have I done? he shouted in a whisper, his throaty words seeming desolate and feral. What if some of those people were innocent?  
  
Not a chance, Butch replied shakily from the front seat. That's a total Cage hangout. We only know where it is from spies.  
  
Every one of those people has probably destroyed a family just like yours, Cassidy added softly. _Why were we assigned to this person? _she thought.  
  
Butch looked at her sympathetically as Brock shook in the corner. Could he go insane on them as well?  
  
I want to die, Brock muttered, his mouth going dry.  
  
Cassidy consoled. You've done everyone a favor.  
  
I hope so, Brock shut his eyes tightly, preventing the release of tears. I hope wherever Gary is, he doesn't hate me now. _And a good thing Misty and Ash have no idea about this.  
  
_Brock was dropped off at the building that he knew to be his apartment building. He had a fleeting concern as he ascended the stairs that Giovanni would be angry with him for throwing his gun, but it didn't matter. Even if he killed him for it, it didn't matter.  
  
Despair welled in the pit of Brock's stomach, clawing its way to his appendages for release. Brock fell back against a wall, wringing his hands as sweat dripped from his flesh to his clothing. His head throbbed and pounded, and his vision began to redden and blacken.  
  
_I'm having a nervous breakdown_, he realized, swallowing hard and jumping to his feet.  
  
Brock wandered into the kitchen, grasping a knife tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.  
  
I've done all I'm going to do, he nearly shouted, now I just want to get out of here!  
  
He attempted to slash his wrists, but only tore through the wrong parts of his arm in his fervor. But it actually helped him to calm down. As his nerves ground down, he got a wet rag and stopped his bleeding, suddenly feeling that he could go on.  
  
He walked like a zombie to his bedroom, eying the geodude in his corner sadly, eying the vulpix beneath his blankets with desolation. He would go and visit the others in the center the next day. Maybe it would help him carry on.  
  
------------------------------------------------  
  
Espiritu Noctuna's arms were held out wide as rain pelted the thin black worn, and eyes fluttered downward toward the ground, not even visible below from the cliff.  
  
Tears were all that was to be felt as a deep breath was taken, and feet were recoiled as if to spring. Death was about to consume when someone tapped Espiritu on the shoulder.  
  
You're a fool if you think he's really dead, came the weak, masculine voice.   
  
Espiritu looked down toward the fog and back to the grasses and tiny flowers which seemed so vibrant under the grim contemplation of death. Espiritu's eyes wandered back up toward the one who had spoken.  
  
How'd you get here? Nocturna frowned.  
  
I can be anywhere I want, the man replied. Now let's get out of here, you're gonna catch cold in that skimpy outfit.  
  
Nocturna nodded and back flipped away from the cliff.  
  
Who would have thought, the guy chuckled, walking toward the ninja-like figure at quite the leisurely pace. Just hope her ass doesn't get killed in all of this.


	6. The Scent of Tears and Hurricane

rancor6

**A Descent Into Rancor  
**Part VI- The Scent of Tears and Hurricane  
  


Brock sat at the edge of his bed, his legs dangling freely in the dark. his eyes watered as his mind sopped up and filed away all of the chaos which had swallowed him whole the past couple of days, and he looked the part of a landfill. He couldn't believe the scars which ravaged his skin, and he couldn't believe that he had put some there himself--hundreds over the past month.  
  
He wished that he could keep track of Ash and Misty, and he wished that he could find his sister once and for all. The thought that she might not be hostage at all, rather that she might be dead, crossed his mind quite a few times. However, all thoughts were soon swatted away by his subconscious, for if she was dead he had truly nothing to live for.  
  
Dewey drops of languid rain suffered and shimmied down his windowsill as the cold crept into his freshly disblanketed skin, and he stood up while rubbing his hands over his forearms. Vulpix barked softly in her sleep, wondering where the warmth had disappeared to, but Brock continued on to the kitchen. He needed a drink of water, a drink of punch, a drink of something. He thought about the bleach beneath the kitchen sink but decided against it. Instead he tried to shut his sleepless eyes and wondered how much longer he could go on while unable to escape a deprecative insomnia.   
  
The darkness didn't subside that night, even well into the dawn. Brock's eyes deepened in redness as he brewed his coffee and clicked on the vidphone. For some reason his lack of sleep seemed to make everything around him even more sharp and brightly colored, even though it did appear to fade out from time to time.  
  
_Am I so guilty_, Brock gulped as the screen seemed to slowly condense into the hulking shape of his sadistic boss, _that I just can't sleep anymore?  
  
_He had felt something--and he couldn't discern it from guilt or horrifying premonition. His thoughts had been weighing against him as well as it had been a month since he'd had any contact with Ash. He didn't know if he cared to see Misty at all, after what she had done.  
  
Giovanni raised an eyebrow from the vidscreen, you aren't looking well.  
  
I've had insomnia, he sighed, bringing a shaky coffee mug to his lips once again.   
  
We'll have to get you some meds for that, Giovanni brushed off the thought and continued on his previous track. We think we've found another lead to the whereabouts of your sister. The Cage has another hideout in a warehouse behind--  
  
Brock sputtered and narrowed his eyebrows. I've heard _that _one before.  
  
Giovanni shook his head sadly. We're doing the best we can. The only thing you can do now is continue to knock off The Cage until it's narrowed down--  
  
You know, Brock sipped his coffee again, If I found my sister, I would quit. How do I know you're not sending me everywhere BUT to where my sister is? I'm not stupid, and neither are you.  
  
Giovanni appeared flustered, as if his feelings had been hurt. We are trying to find your sister, he assured. You're not the only agent against the Cage we have. This is entirely for your benefit.  
  
Brock shook his head, scratching his scalp vigorously as to hide the liquid which traced his dry, red eyes before continuing. I don't really have a choice, I guess. But if you are just fucking with me, I hope you're having a good time.  
  
I see Oak's influence, Giovanni grumbled under his breath.  
  
Brock's head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes considerably at Giovanni, nearly dropping his mug of coffee. Don't even mention him again. Your lips don't even deserve to say his name.  
  
Giovanni blinked in surprise at Brock's insubordination, but delivered no reprimand. _There are just some people you don't piss off_, he thought.  
  
Giovanni chose to totally ignore the statement and continued to deliver his message to Brock, giving directions to the place and the password and all the other blah blah blah he would need to complete the task.  
  
After the vidphone was a blank, grayish screen with only his reflection shining off of it once again, Brock continued to stare at it for a good amount of time, then lifted his coffee to his lips once again.  
  
I loathe you, he spat, then took a sip.  
  
----------------------------------------------  
  
The girl's heart pounded as the trees whisked by her, and her footsteps, however cautious, bled into the ground and condemned her to death. About ten armed footsteps echoed beyond her own, and the dusky skies bled into her eyes with the same flushed color of her cheeks and the running almost began to seem pointless. The surrounding bits of trees and thick brush was all that kept her part way hidden, especially considering that it hindered the large group pursuing her.  
  
One of the rocket grunts looked down to his vidwatch and barked something into it that the girl couldn't hear. Her eyes welled with black spots as she was tired of running. She couldn't just pull out her flying pokemon or she would be a target in the air. But her legs felt as if they were grinding into her knee joint and that she would soon topple over.   
  
_How did the rocket grunts get so much endurance all of the sudden? _She snapped to herself.   
  
Running forever was definitely not going to be an option, so she had to lose them somehow.  
  
Grunt Captain Jacob looked at his communicator as it snapped on.  
  
Why haven't you caught her yet? Giovanni's angered, disembodied voice howled at the young man.  
  
She's fast, Jacob replied shakily, really fast. And quiet.  
  
Giovanni shook his head. Dammit, how did my goddam research assistant get so fit? But never mind that. She can't run forever.  
  
We could catch her a lot more easily if you'd just let us shoot her instead of capture her, Jacob suggested uneasily. If she's a traitor, don't you want her dead anyway?  
  
No way, Giovanni snapped, then recoiled back into his collected, superior tone of voice. I have plans for her. And I need her alive.  
  
If only we had stun guns, Jacob sighed as his legs mushed beneath him. He never did like running.  
  
Well you don't, Giovanni shouted back. Use the nets and do the best you can.  
  
Jacob felt like asking why they wouldn't be allowed to use tranquilizers, but he figured it would just add kinder to the fire of irritation he had already sparked within his boss.  
  
Will do, he mumbled politely, with no further comment as his communicator switched back off.  
  
C'mon team, he shouted back to his slurry of grunts trailing his wearied feet, we've gotta do this or the boss will bitch us hard. Spread out, we'll try and surround her.  
  
The grunts affirmed his order by suddenly sprinting outward and covering the surrounding area for a nice radius. Jacob realized that this would give their little fugitive chance to hide in a tree, but he decided to rely on their arkanines and other tracker pokémon in order to hunt her down.  
  
The girl suddenly realized that she was no longer being pursued directly.  
  
_Bastards were probably just trying to wear me down_, she thought nervously, slowing to a halt and nearly blacking out as her heart suddenly realized that it was unnecessary to pump as much blood as it had been.   
  
_They probably just want me to get stuck in a tree_, she bit her lip and frowned. If only she had her equipment she would be able to fight back just a little, but she had been caught off guard.  
  
Assuming no other choice, the girl picked out the highest tree she could discern among the hundreds which expunged their emerald-blanketed branches across the sun-fleshed sky. She climbed it to the near top with cat-like agility, her muscles recoiling a little more slowly than usual, however, as they were still incredibly weary.  
  
With trembling hands she fumbled for her cell phone within her pockets, and held it as closely to her skin as possible while dialing as to muffle the sounds. She would have had her communicator, but she was caught off guard.  
  
a voice hissed loudly from the other end, where are you?  
  
Nocturna winced and flapped her arm nervously, I have to be silent. I'm in a tree in the Ilex forest, they've chased me here, and they're trying to capture me. They would have killed me by now if that was their intent. Send someone to save me!  
  
We're all coming for you, the other voice assured in a whisper, the three of us and agent Viente. Try and hold on.  
  
I don't have much time! she assured as the sound of growlithes and snapping underbrush filled her ears from below.  
  
We'll hurry, her associate assured, and hung up the phone.  
  
Nocturna's breathing became erratic, and she balled up as close to the trunk as possible, her hands squeezing her knees tightly. She would still fight if she had too, even if she had to shed the hindrance of her civilian clothes, but she wouldn't let those bastards just take her and expect to be rescued. She did have quite a bit of confidence that she would be in any case, but several things had taken unexpected turns as of late.  
  
The tumultuous whoosh of air being shoved down by heavy steel resonated in Nocturna's ears, and she stopped breathing, suddenly feeling that her heartbeat had become far too loud.   
  
_I said I had no time_, she thought, unswallowable saliva building within her mouth, _and I was more right than I had thought.  
  
_A huge, luminous Skarmory invaded her vision, suddenly hovering inches in front of her. She tried to ignore it, hoping in some strange way that she would blend with the tree, but her pipe dream was dispelled as its long steal claws reached out to grasp her waist.  
  
_Biggest Skarmory I've ever seen_, she thought as she stood bolt upright from where she was sitting in a stupor, jumping over the creatures claws and barely landing on her feet once again, her balance nearly lost. The Skarmory cried and Nocturna tried to grab its legs, possibly to catch it off guard and send it sailing to the ground, but she had underestimated its strength. Within a millisecond its legs had broken free and she was tightly clutched within its talons, being taken, kicking and flailing, toward the Rocket Troop below.  
  
Good work Scartissue, Jacob smirked, looking into the terrified eyes of his bird's prey. You'll definitely be getting a treat for this.  
  
Nocturna tried to spit at Jacob, mustering all the piss and vinegar she had left to defy her enemies, but he slapped her mouth away as she motioned to do so.  
  
No no, Jacob grinned toothily, we have the upper hand here.  
  
Nocturna was dropped carefully into a net in such a way that escape wouldn't have been possible. She tried to flail, but all it accomplished was swinging back and forth in the air. Her prison was opaque and she could hardly breathe through its tightly wound mesh, but she could tell that she was being suspended from something, possibly a pole being carried by two grunts, as if she was a trophy kill after a hunt.   
  
She only ceased to flail after a time so that she would have time to greet the face with abhorrence that she knew she would be seeing as soon as she was released.  
  
And she did have quite a few things she wanted to say and do to that bastard Giovanni.  
  
----------------------------------------------  
  
Ash ran his fingers through her hair gingerly, his mind wandering from May before him to the lake which lapped upwards at the sky to his failed premonition. The glossy orange hue that became the sky chilled him through the thin epidermic layer which wasn't such the great insulator, and he began to despair.  
  
It'll be all right, May whispered up at him, and it seemed strange that she, the one lying helplessly in the hospital bed, should be consoling him.   
  
Ash closed his eyes gently, and she lifted a shaky hand to cup his chin.  
  
It's just, Ash choked, I could have sworn that I would find her here. Something inside me just told me that if I came here, I would find her.  
  
May remained silent for a moment, simply looking behind Ash. He was momentarily puzzled, but looked behind him to see if she was simply gazing into infinity or actually looking at something.  
  
Seems someone found _you_, May frowned.  
  
Ash jumped backwards as an androgynous figure wrapped in obsidian-black nylon crept toward him, putting a slender hand over his mouth before he could open it to speak.  
  
You must come with me, whispered the figure, we need you to save her. We need you to save all of them.  
  
Ash shook his head in disbelief, his eyes widening as the nylon hand still remained over his mouth.  
  
A rash pounding began at the door, and the ninja's head whipped around in what must have been fear.  
  
No time, the black-clad person hissed, shoving Ash toward the window.  
  
We can't leave her here either, Ash blinked as the hand was removed.  
  
Not to worry, a cheeky voice assured as a head popped up from the window. This person was also dressed entirely in black, but their mannerisms didn't exactly smack of stealth. The person vaulted into the room, gently plucking a starry-eyed May from where she lye.  
  
No one will be left behind, the new ninja assured, no one.  
  
The door began to creak open because of the force being exerted on it, but there was naught to be seen from the eyes of those behind it except for the white, sanitary hospital curtains billowing in the starry night's breeze.  
  
--------------------------------------------------  
  
No light shone from the eyes of Brock as the mildewy walls and cracked, liquid-drinking ground seemed to close around him. A swarm of Rocket Grunts swayed back and forth, careful to make a path for the masked assassin that demanded deference with only his aura.   
  
It needs to be a quick, clean kill, Giovanni had told him, some aberrant fire stoked within the old man's expression. And the mask must remain while you do it.  
  
With all the Grunts around, Brock couldn't understand why the assassination had to be his. Giovanni explained that this person was one of the Cage members present at the death of his family, but Brock was begining to wonder how this knowledge could have been obtained.  
  
Rationale and logical thought process had been drained and juiced of him, however. He stopped questioning why the execution was taking place in a rank, crowded room, and his mind was just set on doing as told. Even if Giovanni forced him to kill every last Cage member in existence before he was able to retrieve his sister, he didn't believe he had a choice.  
  
The end of the tunnel revealed a bit of a cove, and the Grunts had slithered away from whatever prey they had been antagonizing to make way for Brock, who had drawn a poison-edged knife from a sheath in his shoe.  
  
Come on, one grunt snarled, let us have our fun for a while, you can kill her in a minute.  
  
Brock turned around, getting a good look at the grunt that had approached him. The glare caused the grunt to back away, slithering beneath shadows as the others had done previously.  
  
Brock's head snapped around again presently, and he was finally able to get a good look at his mission.  
  
The figure of a thin girl hanging from the hands dangled before him. She was naked as a blue-jay, and her ribs crowded against her skin distinctly as her legs caused her lungs to have to fight against her weight in order to drink a breath. Her head was covered in a purple cloth, making her face totally invisible. Bruises, probably delivered by the perversions of the grunts, marked her entirety.  
  
Brock stepped up to his quarry, bringing the blade close enough to the girl's neck to cause a draft, yet not yet pressing upon it. A muffled sob projected from her throat and rang against his ear drums, causing his eyes to suddenly widen.  
  
Brock grasped the edges of the cloth about the girl's face, and another grunt stepped up to him.  
  
Giovanni said that anyone who removed that would die, the grunt warned.  
  
Brock smirked, pulling his own mask free from his face.  
  
I'm not afraid of death, he grumbled, breaking the rope around the girl's hands as he continued to stare into the crowd.  
  
I'm afraid we can't let you do that, muttered another, letting light glimmer off the edge of his blade as Brock caught the girl in his arms, holding her against his side for protection.  
  
Brock narrowed his eyes, then he threw his knife into the forehead of his aggressor, not a second of thought poured into the action even the moment before. The victim's eyes remained sickeningly wide as he stood for one second more, then landed to the ground with a thud even before blood had a chance to seep from the crack forged into his head where metal tore apart his spongy brain.  
  
Havoc rang into that tunnel as the grunts swarmed Brock, each attempting to kill him with their knives and guns. After each unsuccessful attempt, after each deflection by Brock's own gun, the masses began to disperse, desiring to save their own lives.  
  
Muffled screams came from the girl at Brock's side as the stench of blood wafted through the room. The overall fog of death in the tunnel was enough to drive her to madness, but being held by the instigator made it all the worse.  
  
Before removing the cloth, Brock removed his own over shirt and pants to give to her. He was in but a tight-fitting black undershirt, overcoat and boxers when her mask finally came off, but he wouldn't want to suffer the added embarrassment of seeing her in _total_ nudity. Somehow the expression in her eyes was bound to make it worse.  
  
The clothes didn't help much, however. The cloth slipped over her head, and a cloud of ratty, damaged, orange hair fell to her shoulders, and her eyes glazed over like a wounded bunny as Brock tried to gently pry the packaging tape which had been so roughly stamped across her face, causing green bruises along her mouth and on her cheeks.  
  
My God, Brock swallowed, tears coming to his eyes. Why did they do this to you?  
  
Don't ask questions, she began to shake, dropping to her knees. Just hold me.  
  
Brock dropped to his knees as well, bringing her tightly into his arms. She was obviously scared of him, he could tell by how her muscles tensed and recoiled beneath her fragile skin at his touch. But some love must have remained, even if it had been corroded away by his actions.  
  
Brock pulled his overcoat around her so that it enveloped them both, and although bodies were strewn across the tunnel floor, he didn't move but to rock her back and forth for the good portion of an hour.   
  
How did Giovanni think I could kill you? Brock muttered to himself, not truly expecting an answer.  
  
He thought he had that much control over you, Misty explained, her breath inciting goose bumps to rise upon Brock's arm as her breath grazed it.   
  
You know about me? Brock winced.   
  
I didn't try to get you committed because I thought you were in a police academy! Misty suddenly screamed from the depth of her soul, her clammy voice echoing brightly throughout the halls.  
  
Brock's muscles tensed even more tightly than Misty's.  
  
Yes Brock, Misty hissed, I was a spy for Giovanni. And I was a spy for the cage. And I'm really just an Espiritu Agent, working for the Sensational Sisters of Cerulean City.  
  
Your sisters? Brock whispered in his astoundedness.  
  
They're not really my sisters, Misty rolled her eyes. Did you ever notice that I don't look a damn thing like them?  
  
They're too ditzy to be running a covert operation, Brock blinked, and why would you tell me this?  
  
For one thing, they don't really act like that. THAT is all an act. For another thing, Giovanni already knows all about me. Apparently I wasn't his number one spy, so it doesn't really matter if I tell you.  
  
I'd never do anything to hurt you, Brock suddenly sniffled, plunging his face into Misty's hair. I can't believe Giovanni would try and get me to kill you. Why, if you didn't make that sound-- Brock pondered, but his face suddenly drained of all blood as that realization crept into his stomach.   
  
I shouldn't be awake either, Misty barked, almost smugly. He drugged me. But it didn't affect me as much as it would a normal person. If he'd drugged me enough, you would have killed me. Without a second thought.  
  
Brock's head reeled, and he pulled away from Misty. No, no, I wouldn't have killed you--  
  
Misty pressed upon him, you would have. And I'm afraid now--I know I'm making you mad--  
  
Don't be afraid, Brock stood up. I don't care if you break my kneecaps, nothing could make me kill you. Nothing.  
  
You've killed before, Misty closed her eyes tightly and choked, I don't see what keeps you from killing anyone you want.  
  
Brock grasped the sides of his head. I only kill the Cage, I'm only trying to get my sister back--  
  
Misty threw her head back and laughed. The laugh dripped of dementia, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she did so.  
  
Poor, misguided Brock! she began screaming again. There is no Cage, you fool! Team Rocket killed your family! Giovanni was only trying to get you!  
  
Brock shook his head even more furiously. But Katie--  
  
She's probably dead, Misty snapped. You've been going around hitting all of Giovanni's enemies, just like any other Rocket assassin. Only you're special--sort of. You were the bad prototype, after all.  
  
Brock shouted once again, she's _not_ dead! She's not dead! She can't be dead! And I'm not a prototype!  
  
Oh yes you are, Misty continued laughing maniacally, the shock from her previous abuse drowning her mind. You were just a clone, put into the Shale family at birth because you didn't come out quite right. The good prototype was kidnapped.  
  
Brock slammed his fists into the wall, causing the skin on all of his knuckles to break and blood to flow down the wall. The pain which throbbed through his hands felt good, and kept him as sane as he could possibly be considering the circumstances. I look just like my family!  
  
And that's exactly what you were designed to do, Misty snapped. But the Flint that left died, the one that came back was a new clone. After Giovanni couldn't find the good prototype, his paranoia about the mistakes caused him to try and re-enlist you, but he wanted you out of the house first so that you could be familiarized with Team Rocket, with a team that didn't seem so sinister, so you might consider them the good guys one day--  
  
Just stop! Brock began to pant. You're full of it! I know you are! Just shut up! Shut up! Shut--  
  
Brock's body suddenly collapsed to the ground as something kicked the legs out from beneath him. He hit the ground face first, and his nose snapped in half. Blood gushed onto the ground and down his chin, neck and clothing as he rose to face whoever hurt him.  
  
A figure in black stood above him, ready to strike again.  
  
All pain disappeared from Brock's body. He would have blacked out if he didn't have this ability, as his nose which was snapped and lying crooked across his face would have been too much pain to bear. Moreover, the fact that he was told that the hell he had been living was just a big lie would have been too much pain to bear.  
  
Who are you? Brock growled at his new adversary.  
  
The good prototype, the person hissed, and Brock's eyes widened.  
  
We'll see how good you are! Brock shouted, grabbing two guns from his overcoat.  
  
The good prototype kicked the guns from Brock's hands, something that had never happened to him before. Brock was almost in a state of shock as a foot came flying toward his face, but luckily Brock was alert enough to grab the prototype's foot and throw him to the ground.  
  
The prototype leaped up quickly, not taking any time to recover before dashing to kick and punch Brock repeatedly in the stomach. Blood was also leaking from Brock's mouth as well as his nose as his vision hazed over and he dropped to the ground.  
  
I'm sorry I have to do this, the prototype breathed in weakly, almost as if holding back a sob, but you're just too far gone now.  
  
The prototype drew a gun from some invisible pocket within the black sheath worn and pointed it at Brock's head.  
  
the Espiritu gulped, my friend--  
  
Misty gasped, her hysterical laughing continuing, don't shoot him--  
  
But the Espiritu had already pulled the trigger. It was expected that Brock's slain body would reside in the space the bullet was traveling toward, but instead a clang could be heard as the bullet ricocheted off of the hard surface of the tunnel floor.  
  
That was never part of the plan you son of a bitch! A familiar, distinctly male voice rang from a rafter. Misty and the mysterious Espiritu looked up, only to see another Espiritu, except with his hood pulled back, standing below a manhole-type opening which could serve as an exit. After he's safe, I'm coming back to kill you.  
  
And with that, the young man jumped out of the tunnel with Brock in his arms.  
  
I'm going to kill Giovanni, Brock gurgled through the blood which clotted within his mouth. How dare he try and make me hurt Misty.  
  
We'll kill him together Shale, Brock's savior assured, tasting the tears which came to the corner of his lips from his eyes as the sky boiled over and threatened to hurricane upon every soul involved, I promise.  
  
  
A/N: The chapter after this one will either be the last one or second to last. This story is probably getting to be too long now, ne? This particular chapter, however, was FAR too short. The next one should be pretty long tho. I have too much stuff to do, which is why there wasn't more to be said in this installment, I'm just trying to assure the two people out there actually reading this that I'm not abandoning it. ^_^ LAter


	7. The Scent of Wrath and Kamikaze

rancor7

**  
  
A Descent Into Rancor  
**Part VII- The Scent of Wrath and Kamikaze  
  
  


I still think I should kill you, Gary spat, taking a stiff drink of some sake he had hidden somewhere on his person. Even though it wasn't necessary to hide anything at the time, some old habits just died hard.  
  
Ash blinked, they had me convinced that he was so drugged that he would snap and kill anyone. When he just started yelling shut-up I thought he was going to freak for sure.  
  
I always knew you were an ass, Gary growled, then his eyes widened, and get your filthy paws off my sister!  
  
May whispered, sitting up in bed for the first time in a long time, please chill. It's been a hard time for all of us, and Ash has been very nice to me since you've been gone.  
  
Awww, fuck it, Gary grumbled, downing more sake than he had before.   
  
Ash rolled his eyes, attempting to change the subject by addressing discourse at Misty. I can't believe you were a spy that long and none of us had any idea.  
  
Misty would have normally retorted by somehow knocking Ash's abilities to observe the obvious, but she simply stared ahead, watching each breath forced inward and outward from Brock's chest. Her eyes were wide but glossy, and she pretty much refused to answer anyone's request for conversation.  
  
I wish you'd tell me what was wrong, Ash sighed, mostly thinking audibly since the only person in the vicinity who heard what he had said was May.  
  
Gary grumbled, I can't believe you have all these awesome abilities and that you're Giovanni's great experiment and you've been a _loser_ for so long! Obviously Shale here was the one to get any brains out of the deal.  
  
Ash looked to the ground, then looked up at Brock. His eyes watered momentarily, and he stood to watch his friend breathe as Misty had been doing.  
  
Ash walked gingerly over to Brock's bed, running his fingers over Brock's lightly clinched, clammy palm.   
  
Gary stood as Ash did this, ready to pounce for any reason. He nearly reached for a weapon as Ash put a hand to Brock's cheek, letting the warm flush of healing blood which warmed his friend's body creep into his palm.   
  
I'm so sorry Brock, Ash whispered. If I had killed you, I would have followed.  
  
Damn straight you would have, Gary snarled, as he had been listening intently to any sound which escaped Ash's mouth.  
  
May frowned. Stop being so defensive! Ash isn't going to kill Brock.  
  
He almost did, Gary narrowed his eyes, his glare never escaping Ash.  
  
There's nothing I can ever do to fix it, either, Ash admitted, turning to May with the frostbite of a personal hell behind his eyes.   
  
The past is in the past, May assured, patting a spot on her bed for Ash to return to. Don't kick yourself forever, although my brother may try to make you.  
  
Don't touch Shale, Gary growled through clenched teeth, and don't touch my sister. I will never forgive you for what you tried to do.  
  
Ash's eyebrows furrowed in angst as he turned to Gary, I have been friends with Brock longer than you have been, and I was told something that wasn't true. I still don't forgive myself, but I will touch him and try to get his forgiveness if I want to!  
  
Like hell, Gary began, stepping forward towards Ash. He was only stopped by Misty as she stood in front of Gary, appearing there almost as if she had teleported. The stare she gave him was filled with more threat than Gary's glare could hope to achieve if he had a billion eyes.   
  
Ash backed away from Brock's sleeping figure, sitting next to May once again.  
  
It was nice to have the liberty of being in the Espiritu hospital instead of a public one. They knew the doctor and the beds were much more comfortable. The rooms were more commodious in general, and there was a certain leniency given to the patients that wasn't present in any public hospital.  
  
Gary sat with his head in his hands for a while, letting the steady beep of Brock's heart monitor totally inebriate his mind. He was about ready to explode when he finally decided to stand up. Misty had gone back to staring blankly, and Ash was sitting on a chair next to the bed of a napping May Oak.  
  
Gary sauntered over to Brock's bed, drowning in blood which had consumed his face, causing him to take on a very deep flush. He didn't like the sight of Brock's nose covered in a blood-stained bandage, but at least he wasn't looking at a corpse with a blood-stained, gaping hole in the back of his head.   
  
Gary sucked up his desire to flood with the sentiments he'd been storing away in his mind since he'd recovered from the incident with the Mistake, and he merely grasped Brock's hand gently.  
  
We'll pull through this, he assured.   
  
It was almost positive. Most of Brock's current incapacitation was due to mental anguish rather than physical problems. He prayed that Brock would wake from his sleep soon.  
  
Something soft resided beneath Brock's hand, and he twitched his fingers gently against it. Light tried to sift in between his tightly shut eyelids, and they quivered in response, but he was too drained to open them at that moment. His tongue and throat reeked of metal, and his head felt stuffed with saw dust.   
  
Where um I? he muttered stuffily, as if his tongue had dried into a ball of cotton.  
  
said the voice above him, and the hand holding his squeezed it gently for a moment.  
  
Brock mumbled again, gently stroking the hand. The hand's owner pulled away quickly, and Brock felt suddenly cold.  
  
I guess he wants to talk to _you_, Gary muttered, and then once again, after a moment of reluctance, someone was holding Brock's hand.  
  
Don't try and stay awake, this person advised in a whisper, also putting a hand to his head to gently stroke his temples. You need to sleep, trust me. You were on a major overload of nerve calming chemicals.  
  
Brock's eyes welled with tears as his skin felt incredibly sensitive and almost painfully receptive to the light touches he received on his hand and temple from the girl. He tried to reach his hand out to touch her cheek, but it wouldn't rise as he had mentally commanded it. It was much too tired. A tear splashed from one closed eye to his lips as he realized he couldn't do this, and Misty brushed the moisture away.  
  
It was hot and it was stuffy and restless, all of which contributed to Brock feeling as if his heart was going to suddenly burst. His temples began to throb as they continued to be stroked gently, and the tears just kept coming.  
  
Don't cry, Misty whispered, delicately enough to make Brock cry more. She held her palms below his ears and stroked away each falling tear with her thumbs. It's all right, you're home now.  
  
Brock's breathing deepened, and his head tumbled sideways as to press upon Misty's hand even more. He had no idea what she was doing there, but he knew that he didn't want her to leave by any means.  
  
I love you, he whispered while trying to brush his lips on her hand. He was still drowsy, and his eyes hadn't opened since he became quasi conscious while lying there, so he didn't really feel the consequence of what he had said.   
  
I love you too, Misty consoled as blood flushed to her face. Her eyes began to gloss over with moisture as well.  
  
  
------------------------------------------------  
  
Brock woke completely to a chill induced by the night. He'd slept so long that day that he was completely awake in the night.  
  
But it was better that way.  
  
Ash, Misty and Gary had all crashed out on chairs in the room, a tiny hospital room in the Cerulean City Gym. He surely couldn't be taken to a normal hospital, and the Espiritu's had their own doctors and technology. Great technology. It was why Gary was alive at that point.  
  
Brock sat up from his bed, his feet falling off the bed and touching the cold tile floor below.  
  
He walked across the room gingerly to a desk where he knew there was pen and paper. He drew the necessary materials, and listened to the scratch of the pen with anxiety, hoping that his scrawlings wouldn't wake anyone up.  
  
_My Friends, _his letter began.  
  
_I have unfinished business in Team Rocket. I'm sorry that I've failed you all, but after this moment it will not happen again. I probably won't be coming back, so know that I love you all.  
  
Knowing that Gary is alive and I didn't kill him has given me strength, but the pain that I caused him and Misty and all of you needs to be repaid. With what I'm about to do, everyone that caused you pain will die at once.  
  
I don't know if there could have been something between us, Misty, but know that I did love you with all of my soul. Take care of Gary, and never think that I ever meant to hurt you.  
  
Goodbye--you might never find out what has become of me, but I love you. I love you all.  
  
--Brock  
  
_ He placed his letter on his bed where he knew it would be found.  
  
_Was that a suicide note?_ he contemplated as he stealthily left the room, trying to open and shut the door with as little sound as possible.  
  
He checked his jacket pockets as he often did before a hit. This time, however, he didn't need any kind or manner of drugs to stay calm, and he strode with confidence to the building in which his fate resided.   
  
No wind flustered his face as he walked, and no contortion or movement graced its edifice as he moved stealthily toward his goal, walking in the hopes of reaching it near dawn. His determination was almost mockable as his face was distorted with the bandages which were the result of his broken nose, but even the most farcical appearances his face could have taken didn't keep his fortitude from bleeding all over his aura.  
  
He suddenly sensed something, as he was begining to be able to, as he walked--this sense being a rancid feeling which struck chords against his mind like a child banging haplessly on a piano. A shifting breeze flustered his back, and he didn't even turn to face that which he knew was present.  
  
Go away, he said calmly, I'm going to go kill Giovanni. You don't have any reason to be here.  
  
The presence stepped closer, however. Brock's pulse began to quicken as he didn't feel like dying before accomplishing his goal. He whipped around quickly, drawing his gun with such speed that nothing aside from a huge, psychic aberration would be able to escape his fury.  
  
However, upon turning around, all that could be seen was a red glimmer of a light which had just departed moments before, and a hulking figure surrounded in red lightning begining to blend in with the starless, blue-black canvas in the air.  
  
Breath escaped Brock's lips slowly as he turned back around, regaining his stride. Though he became a bit more shaken, he was grateful that he'd be able to continue on to do what he had to. He wasn't sure what the Mistakes were or what Giovanni had done to piss them off, but he did have a feeling that the common hatred would spare his life.  
  
_What about Katie? _a voice asked him, a voice from within.  
  
_I've given up hope_, Brock answered himself, _the cage isn't real, so she was probably killed.  
  
What if she wasn't?_ the voice began to fade, but was still audible. Suppressing his logic was difficult, but he was becoming successful.  
  
_She was_, Brock closed his eyes and sniffled, _Giovanni would have killed her the second I defied Team Rocket.   
  
_It wasn't as if he could have avoided that tragedy--he didn't know that there was no Cage at that point, and it's not as if he could have gone through with hurting Misty.  
  
he sighed.   
  
He knew none of his loves could ever be, so avenging them was the least he could do.  
  
The dust-graced path which his feet treaded upon began to notably shorten in distance from his destination, and the sun began to peek over at the horizon, as if scared to rise and illuminate a colorful earth on what would be a day filled with shades of gray and darkness.  
  
Brock closed his eyes and nodded at the building. Few people remained in it as anyone besides security had gone home for the night and wouldn't be returning until a respectable hour of day.  
  
I guess I'll be able to plan a surprise party, Brock dispatched in an enthused manner, but his body language reeked of resignation.   
  
Brock ascended to the floor of Giovanni's office by means of the fire escape stairs, and he did it quietly at that. He supposed that Giovanni didn't have the foresight to place security outside the building, and he moved boldly toward the end window on the desired floor, peeking in momentarily to see if all was safe. His eyes were met with a room filled with various pokemon, probably a kennel of sorts for vacationing Rockets. They slept in large cages in the room, probably waiting to be taken out for exercise in the morning.  
  
Brock rubbed his dry hands together, feeling the morning chill temporarily dissipate as he did so.   
  
He used his newfound strength to open the window. Though the action wasn't particularly quiet, the pokemon inside didn't startle and begin to make noise. Their heads turned as he climbed through the window and into the room, but they were used to strange and furtive occurrences from being owned by various rocket members.  
  
Brock tiptoed across the room to the door, unable to open it at first in fear that he would startle guards walking around in the hall outside. He knew he couldn't just stand immobile in that room all day, however, and with a deep breath he gently twisted the handle, cracking the door open so as to scan the hallway, hopefully unnoticed.  
  
He gulped hard as he was met with a scene of about twenty security guards pacing in front of Giovanni's office.  
  
The bastard is expecting me, Brock spat, astounded by the length of Giovanni's precautionary measures.  
  
The guards weren't armed lightly, either. Giovanni knew that Brock could easily wipe out their numbers, guns or not. But these guards had dogs, stun guns, assault rifles with silencers, and some odd computer-like devices which rested at their belts.  
  
I can still take them, he mumbled under his breath, then grabbed his gun from his jacket and stood against the door, preparing himself to run out and ambush them.  
  
He stood for a moment, trying to let his heart calm down.  
  
_Roll!_ an impulse suddenly sprang into his head, and he somersaulted to the ground, rolling behind one of the metal pokemon cages. He finally landed behind the very last one, as it was also his premonition that this was necessary.  
  
The computer machines were motion and heat detectors.  
  
They knew Brock was in there the whole time.  
  
The world seemed to fade into slow motion, even more so than it usually did when Brock was in a battle, one against an army. He noticed every splinter of dawn's light which glanced the metal cages right before lead began to pour into the room from the door, blasting straight through the metal, splintering it and the pokemon in the cages into pieces. Brock screamed uncontrollably as metal flew into the air above him and landed in his skin. He covered his face with his arms, and his eyes shut tightly as he began to sob, the noise, the pain, the surprise, and the failure of his mission combined driving him into madness.  
  
-----------------------------------------------  
  
Ash yelled, flinging himself awake. It was morning, but only about four thirty a.m. He's gone!  
  
Misty shook her head, then looked at Brock's bed. Shit! I should have known this would happen!  
  
Ash suddenly began to sob, wiping at his arms and legs as if they were being bitten by a million spiders. No, GONE gone!  
  
May jumped up from her bed as well, and she was well enough to rush over to Ash and put her hands around his waist. Calm down! What happened?  
  
Ash sobbed, he's dead! I know he is! Dead!  
  
Where is he? Misty jumped over to Ash, putting her hands on his shoulders. He went to Rocket Headquarters, didn't he?  
  
Ash just began to howl more, and Misty stood away from him, shaking.  
  
Why is the loser freaking out? Gary's eyes widened.  
  
Something must have happened to Brock, Misty shook her head. We knew that he had premonition, but not like this--  
  
Wait wait, Gary shook his head, you're trying to tell me that the loser psychically knows that Shale is hurt?  
  
I don't know for sure, Misty gulped. It might be because of a bond formed during the cloning process, we--we don't know all that much about it.  
  
Gary began harshly, but was interrupted.  
  
Misty yelled into his face, her piss and vinegar returning in the form of impatience. Who the hell cares? We've just got to find him!  
  
For once in his life, Gary was silenced. He didn't even reply to her, he ran for the door.  
  
Misty looked to Ash, believing that he would be too incapacitated to leave, but she noticed he was gone too, already running for the door.  
  
Misty nodded and followed suit, not even taking the time to change from her pajamas.  
  
Time wasn't theirs to behold, and any time wasted could mean Brock's death, if he wasn't already dead.  
  
----------------------------------------------  
  
You just should have followed orders, Giovanni shook his head, standing authoritatively over the shell and stain that once was Brock. You thought you were too good, you thought you were better than me.  
  
A slight twitch manifested itself in Brock's palm, though his eyes remained shut tightly, tightly and as unmoving as death.  
  
I wonder if that was the wind, Giovanni muttered, then his concern drove into a smirk once again. Maybe you are still alive. Maybe you can learn even more of a lesson than you did by being shot into certain death.  
  
Giovanni clapped his hands twice, and two rocket grunts entered to room with a screaming child in their arms. Jessie and James and Meowth were being dragged in on ropes behind them by another set of Rocket Grunts.   
  
one of the grunts coughed, these two wouldn't give up the girl. We had to take her by force. Two rockets were killed before we were able to.  
  
Giovanni seemed taken by surprise at the actions of the usually futile team, but his moment of weakness was quickly covered again by confidence and a smirk.  
  
I guess we'll have to kill them too, then, Giovanni shook his head.   
  
the grunt replied, drawing his gun.  
  
No no, Giovanni held up his hand, and the grunt's gun went limp in his arm.  
  
First things first, Giovanni clenched his fists, then walked up to Katie. If you can hear me, Shale, I demand that you tell me the name of the other experiment, or she dies.  
  
Giovanni pulled a switchblade from his pocket and pressed it to her throat.  
  
And not comfortably, either, he added.  
  
I dunno what you're talking about, Brock tried to reply although he was barely conscious. It came out as not more than an incomprehensible mumble, but somehow Giovanni understood him.  
  
You don't? Giovanni drove the knife tip into Katie's throat, then pulled it out, letting a stream of blood begin. Jessie, James and Meowth began to scream despite their gags as they heard Katie's scream from behind them, and Brock would have winced if he was physically able to.  
  
He really didn't know how he spoke in the first place.  
  
Don't think for a second that I'll believe the espiritu's didn't tell you about the other experiment when they got to you, he announced. It is my experiment, and it is impertinent that i have it for my future plans.  
  
_Protection from the Mistakes, you mean_, Brock thought.  
  
Brock tried to move his arms to grab a gun and blow the balls right off of Giovanni, but as his life ebbed away, he was unable to even open his mouth again to speak. Somehow tears found their way out of his eyes.  
  
_My fault_.  
  
He thought as death crept into his skin.  
  
_Katie's going to die. Misty and Gary won't be avenged, all because I was impetuous.  
  
_Brock still kept trying like damn to move his arms, but it became harder and harder to attempt to move his arms as he did so. He was removed from the pain of it all. He knew he was bleeding from hundreds of places in his body, and that he had bullet holes in his stomach and in his legs and in his arms shards of metal in even more places than that, but he didn't feel any of it. His impending death shot waves of soothing numbness into his body. It became harder and harder to even think about his mission. He was begining to shut off entirely, to just shut down like a computer or a video game.  
  
The only thing he could feel was cold.  
  
And he was consumed by it, by a freezing cold instigated by loss of blood, by a chill of solitary that came from dying without being able to say goodbye to those he loved, even though he admittedly had committed suicide.  
  
Tell me who the other experiment is, Giovanni asked again, not realizing how far gone Brock really was. I'll kill her if you don't.  
  
No movement or sound came from Brock.  
  
Giovanni began to sweat, then ran up to Brock and kicked him.  
  
Tell me who!  
  
Ash Ketchum! A voice shouted from behind him, and a throng of warriors bent on saving their friend stood angrily behind the door.   
  
Giovanni's face fell as he realized the security they must have gotten through in order to reach him.  
  
Both Giovanni and Ash drew weapons as soon as they realized each other's intentions, although Ash was much faster. His inhibition to kill, however, kept the gun pointed at Giovanni rather than firing at him. The grunts pointed their guns at Ash as well, but they knew that if he was the _good_ clone and Shale, the executioner, was the bad, then they _really_ wouldn't stand a chance.  
  
You're a fool, Giovanni laughed, then pulled the trigger.  
  
However, he was bloodied and on the ground before it was possible to do so, seeing as Ash saw the gunshot coming.  
  
The grunts didn't bother firing. They tossed their weapons away and fell to the floor, their arms behind their backs.  
  
Both Misty and Gary shouted at once, running over to the fallen child's side.  
  
Katie stood in shock, just watching as Ash released Jessie, James and Meowth from the ropes which held them. She could hardly breathe as she watched Misty caress a stain on the ground, as she watched her passionately kiss lips which were dead in every visible sense.  
  
She couldn't even break down to cry as Gary grabbed the hands of his beloved friend and pressed them to his face, babbling incoherently about love and trading places with him.  
  
Ash joined Katie in a state of shock after the prisoners were freed. Katie was soon to be hugged and reassured by her temporary foster family, however, and she brought herself to be able to cry.  
  
The shadows of the trees pressed themselves against the ground as the sun moved higher into the sky, able to lift itself from its rest as the wrath-induced Kamikaze which had wracked the building faded into a a slightly less volatile sadness and disbelief.  
  
-------------------------------------------------  
  
**A/N: **Whoa, I ditched you guys at a cliffhanger. Don't worry, though, the next chapter is the end, and it will come soon. I only have two more days left of school, so I should be writing a lot more (like I used to) when Summer rolls around again. Sorry these keep getting shorter. The next chapter will be nice and long since it's the last one, and since I'll have a lot more time to work on it. ^_^ I hope you like this story, even a little.


	8. Summer's Fall

rancor8

  
  


**Descent Into Rancor****  
**Summer's Fall  
  
  


Misty was further provoked to tears and torn to pieces by the fact that Brock's recently deceased lips still retained the vibrant warmth of life. She couldn't accept the loss, and she began to pick the shards of metal from his skin. She ripped the legs and arms off of her pajamas and wrapped them around his wounds. She realized that picking him up and holding him in her arms during her fervor probably wasn't a good idea, but she was careful thereafter not to move him.  
  
His eyes were shut so tightly--Misty looked away as she felt for a pulse, unable to look at his face. He reminded her of a pokemon killed in the road, unmoving and forever frozen in a state of anguish.  
  
No pulse, she whispered, then pried his mouth open gently with her fingers.   
  
Don't just stand there! she shouted before begining CPR, get a god damned ambulance!  
  
Ash lowered his eyes and looked out the door.   
  
Misty just continued with CPR and encouraging words for so long that when her cell phone rang, everyone in the room jumped. Misty didn't take a break from the CPR to answer it, rather she grabbed it from her pocket while giving mouth to mouth and hurled it angrily at Ash. She was still dumbfounded as to why no one had called 911.  
  
Gary still held one of Brock's hands, and he stared blankly at Misty as she refused to give up on her love.  
  
Ash said weakly into the phone.  
  
Where are you? the voice of Lilly snapped into the phone. May said you took off to TR Headquarters! Are you dead?  
  
Ash winced and pulled the phone away from his ear momentarily, then replied.  
  
No, I sort of borrowed guns from, he gulped, your stash.  
  
I noticed, she growled angrily. What's going on?  
  
We killed Giovanni, Ash swallowed hard, but not before he killed Brock.  
  
Silence.  
  
  
  
Brock can't be dead.  
  
I know, Ash sighed, it's awful. Misty is giving him CPR, but he's obviously gone.  
  
Lily corrected, I mean, he _can't_ be dead. If he was dead you wouldn't be able to talk to me now.  
  
Ash blinked.  
  
We're coming to get you all bring you back to the gym hospital, Lily announced, tell Misty to keep giving him CPR. I'll explain to you why I said that there.  
  
Lily hung up sans goodbyes, and Ash looked toward Jessie and James with a bewildered look on his face.  
  
She said Brock is alive and to keep giving him CPR, he whispered.   
  
He's deader than-- Jessie began to argue, but decided not to when she remembered the girl she held in her arms. Why does she think that?  
  
She said that if he were dead, Ash explained, I wouldn't be talking now.  
  
Misty shouted, damn you all, I told you to get an ambulance!  
  
Gary looked up at Ash, his swollen, red eyes widened at the thought.  
  
He's not dead? he mumbled, not even bothering to insult Ash for his incompetence. He seemed dazed, and he spoke as if he were talking in his sleep.  
  
Ash shrugged, I dunno.  
  
Gary whispered, then looked at him and Misty with more interest than before. Save him, Misty, Gary pleaded.  
  
I'll never give up, Misty replied, choking back a sob before going back to giving mouth to mouth.  
  
Ash began to feel a tug on his sleeve, and looked down to find a very young girl holding on to him.  
  
Is he going to be okay? Katie whispered, her eyes glossy in fear.  
  
As long as I'm still standing, Ash replied, he's alive. Start to worry when I pass out.  
  
How could he be alive? Jessie shouted, disbelieving. He's hardly even human anymore.  
  
He never was, Ash frowned. Do you remember what he looked like when he came in?  
  
Jessie blinked, we didn't see him.  
  
Ash continued, he looked good. He should have been a mess. He was pretty scared, but not as disfigured as he should have been, from when he had an accident--I don't know what he was doing now, but they said then that it was in a machine.  
  
Gary looked up at Ash, his eyes beyond red. He was so disoriented that he didn't even bother to call Ash loser. You mean you guys heal well too?  
  
I guess so, Ash pondered. And I don't know how Brock is going to feel, but I really want to know why.  
  
The room grew stale to Ash, and he would have done anything at that second to be safely on his way—to safety. To wherever Lily was going to take them. He would have asked Misty, but she was a little busy at the moment.  
  
Ash suddenly bolted for the door, the wide eyes of Jessie, James and Gary following his movement until he was no longer visible down the hallway. He returned with a gaggle of Espiritu, two with a stretcher in their hands, all running down the hallway.  
  
I'm not going to ask about that, Ash grumbled as a medical helicopter stood ready to take flight out in the front of the building.  
  
Shut up and get in, Violet ordered from the door, and Gary was the last to enter the helicopter.  
  
Not having much land to cover, the helicopter arrived at the Cerulean Gym, the little-known Espiritu headquarters, and landed on the roof. A team of Espiritu's got Brock into an emergency room—another little known aspect of the gym which resided beneath the ground.  
  
How did you keep all this from me? Ash asked, finally free to speak to Misty as Brock was hooked up to a great deal of emergency machinery.  
  
We've kept it from the world, Ash, she sighed, taking her seat in a small waiting room. The place was obviously not designed for visitors—the chairs were very uncomfortable, and the room was small, as if it had been a closet in a former life.  
  
  
--------------------------------------------   
  
Two days passed, and all that was known of Brock's condition was that he was   
  
Jessie and James had taken Katie to their apartment, desiring to be on call for the moment any news was heard. Katie was okay with this because she had grown very used to staying with Jessie and James over the past several months, and they were going to be crucial to reformulating Team Rocket without its leader, although its final purpose was likely to differ.  
  
Misty had seemed to drained to even associate with anyone. She had taken to being a recluse in her old room, and God knows if she had eaten anything. Ash often left a bowl of spaghetti-o's or something equally microwave-driven in front of her door and knocked, and it was always gone, but the empty bowls never seemed to return. Tension between Ash and Gary was almost deadly, and only conversations with May could keep Ash from going completely insane.  
  
That is why, after two days, when Misty walked into the living room where everyone was watching some stupid movie and just sat there, that Ash jumped up from where he sat and wrapped his arms around her.  
  
he shouted, did you get the food I made for you?  
  
she chuckled lightly, but I never want to eat that many starches in a row again.  
  
Ash blushed, all I can make is Top Ramen and spaghetti and spaghetti-o's, or I would have made you something else.  
  
Don't worry about it, Misty sighed, her voice unusually soft. She suddenly looked at Ash quite sheepishly, I haven't been talking to my bosses. Did anyone say how Brock is doing?  
  
He's improving, Ash answered quickly. That's really all I know.  
  
It's all we've been told, Gary added, a very needy look presenting itself in his eyes.  
  
Misty took a deep breath, a breath which seemed to last forever, both to inhale and exhale. Ash was burning with questions that he wanted to ask her, but she seemed too distant, too preoccupied to be conversed with.  
  
So another day passed, but at least Misty wasn't bottled up in her room. Ash even went so far as to go in her room and clean it out of the plates and bowls she left from her time of solitude. Misty was only silently impressed.  
  
Misty, Gary and Ash all sat outside in the grass. None were sure who initiated the action, in fact, Ash thought that the clouds formulating in the sky had pulled their blood and forced them to sit in the grass and to relax while listening to the trees rustle in the wind, those hundred year old trees that meant that the world wouldn't end. It was the one tangible thing that let Ash know that the world wouldn't explode at any moment, and that if patience was his ally, he would one day find out what was going to happen to Brock. At least he knew he wasn't dead.  
  
Lily stepped out the door and walked up to Misty's feet, her long skirt moving in the end in the same sync with the leaves of the trees, I need to talk to you.  
  
Misty was at her feet immediately, and she and Lily conversed quietly, a bit away from the boys. Blood began to fill Gary's ears and his temples began to throb as the pounding of his heart reached auctioneer's speeds. Ash seemed more hopeful than worried, but Gary had always been dubious of the Espiritu coma theory.  
  
After a moment of pure agony, Misty trotted over to where she had been sitting, and the boys were at their feet immediately as well. She lifted her head to him, relief spreading across its entirety.  
  
We can go visit his room, she announced quite exasperatedly. He's been improving really quickly. They think he'll wake up and talk to us.  
  
Gary nearly fell over at this news, and had ants in his pants to get going.  
  
I'll call Jessie and James, Ash announced, and Misty led the way to the emergency room where Brock was recovering.  
  
----------------------------------------------  
  
By God, Gary blinked upon catching a glimpse of Brock. He does look good.  
  
Of course, it wasn't true. Brock was a mess—he looked like a little heap of hell, and if he were any normal person, any visitor would have assumed he had no chance of surviving.  
  
But compared to how he had looked, he could have won a beauty contest.  
  
Misty couldn't breathe for a moment, she just stood, looking at him. Her sentiments were quite differing from Gary's as she almost had expected him to look exactly like his old self. She resisted an urge to throw up as she was suddenly overcome with the notion that her love was not going to survive.  
  
Oh Brock, she stammered in a whisper, trying to get her feet moving to go over and be with him, but they were cemented to the floor, two slabs of concrete amidst a forest of carpeting.  
  
She was beaten to the punch by Gary, who was at Brock's bedside before anything could be said.  
  
She said— Misty gulped, trying to relay Lily's instructions, she said he might come around if we sat around and socialized like normal. I don't know if that's true, but he's not going to wake up now.  
  
I'm so glad you're okay Shale, Gary beamed, ignoring Misty entirely. You've gotta quit doing this to me! Just sit around and be normal for once. It'll be sweet—no more assassinations, no more mistakes, no more getting hurt.  
  
What are the Mistakes? Ash asked from behind Misty, taking her completely by surprise.  
  
I suppose I owe you an explanation for a lot of things, she sighed.  
  
Now would be the time, Ash blinked, seeing as we're supposed to socialize normally' to see if he'll wake up. I have no idea how that will work.  
  
I think they're just trying to make sure we don't maul him, Misty confessed, looking over to Gary who was inches from squeezing the life out of Brock.  
  
So be it, Gary snorted, sitting down away from the hospital bed. You start explaining and I'll leave him alone. For now.  
  
Misty shrugged, what do you want to know?  
  
What are the Mistakes, first of all. Ash demanded.  
  
After Mewtwo escaped, Misty began, Giovanni wanted his machine, his damn mew clone. So he started getting his geneticists to doctor up the genes of more clones. He was always trying to get them to obey. He actually was able to get one to do what he wanted, but it was the weakest. It's dead now.  
  
And they all turned on him? Ash raised an eyebrow.  
  
Misty shrugged, sort of like Mewtwo, except they all have this burning desire to kill Giovanni, not to save all pokemon. I hardly think they consider themselves pokemon. God knows what they'll do now that Giovanni is dead. I don't know the details. I don't know how they escaped or how they turned on him, all I know is that they did. So, that's really all I know.  
  
Do you know why Brock and I are— Ash stumbled for the words, how we are?  
  
Giovanni was scared after he created the Mistakes, Misty sighed, and instead of learning from his mistakes, excuse the pun, he decided to mess with human genes instead of pokemon genes to try and make a defense system. Flint was a member of Team Rocket, as was his wife. They let Giovanni experiment on the embryo of his firstborn. He was the obvious choice since she was already pregnant. But come crunch time, Flint and his wife wouldn't hand their child over to Team Rocket when he was ready for training, so first she was killed, and when Flint still wouldn't comply, he was killed too. Brock was taken away from his family, and there it was discovered that his additional genes didn't give him extra strength or anything. So he was sent back to look after his brothers and sisters.  
  
But Flint was alive! Ash argued. He just left! I saw him come back with my own two eyes!  
  
Misty smirked unhappily, was a clone. Giovanni had already started another experiment with you, you were just a random stolen embryo, but you were kidnapped by the Espiritu's as an infant and given to one of our best agents to raise.  
  
My mom isn't really my mom, Ash said dryly, as if it hadn't fully occurred to him.  
  
She's still your mom, Misty snapped, she's the only mom you've ever had.  
  
I know, Ash closed his eyes. She is my mom.  
  
She loves you very much, Misty pursed her lips.   
  
So I guess my dad didn't really die while she was pregnant either?  
  
No, she was never married.  
  
Silence.  
  
Misty began to continue, interrupting Ash's morbid contemplations. But anyway, the Flint clone was sent in to trap Brock. They killed them and invented the Cage for the sole purpose of getting Brock back after one of his scientists developed a serum to bring out his inherent abilities. Apparently they would have surfaced in time anyway, but Giovanni was impatient.  
  
That's why he went so crazy those times, Gary frowned. I should have known—I DID know that normal nerve calming medicine didn't do that—but I just thought he was having a bad reaction. I am such a fuck!  
  
Don't beat yourself over the head, Gary, Misty ordered, her voice devoid of emotion. Her discourse was a pure command.  
  
But I— Gary frowned, then lowered his head and waited for Misty to keep talking.  
  
After Ash wanted to leave Delia to become a pokemon master, Misty continued, I was assigned to find him and follow him around. The whole bike thing was lame, but it helped me not have to come up with a better excuse.  
  
And so why did Brock go with us then? Ash blinked.  
  
I have no idea, Misty shrugged. That was pure coincidence. It actually made my bosses worry more than anything, because they thought Giovanni would find you out, but they also thought it was a good thing in the long run to have you both on tabs. They didn't tell me this, for some reason, so I didn't figure out what the hell Team Rocket wanted Brock for until my bosses explained it to me just the other day. They're such bitches sometimes.  
  
What about when he left with Ivy? Ash frowned.  
  
His choice, he has that freedom, you know.  
  
Ash nodded.  
  
Tracey is an Espiritu also, Misty looked away. I didn't want him with us because I felt like my bosses thought I needed help, but they really just didn't want me to get close to you. It would impede my judgment if something actually did happen.  
  
So Tracey was just there to keep you from falling in love with me? Ash almost laughed.  
  
Pretty much, Misty shrugged.   
  
Were you? Ash blinked.  
  
Misty looked away, they would have sent Tracey a long time ago if that was the reason. It was even worse that I was was falling for Brock because Giovanni already knew about him.   
  
If only he told us, Jessie frowned in the doorway, as they had finally arrived with Katie.  
  
You guys! Ash blinked. Now I'm wondering if there was some _other_ reason you guys were always following us around.  
  
We were on assignment to find the other experiment, James laughed. We thought it was you the whole time. Giovanni didn't believe us at all because he thought the other experiment would be super intelligent and be in the spotlight constantly. That's why he thought it was Gary at first.  
  
Should I feel special? Gary bit his lip.  
  
Ash spat, super intelligent? Well he's so cocky Giovanni probably thought he had a reason for it—  
  
It's because I'm not a loser! Gary pulled down his eyelid with his index finger.  
  
But he was wrong, Jessie began to speak, and that's why he was desperate to get Brock back. Ash was the other—  
  
I already explained that, Misty looked away.  
  
Jessie nodded.'  
  
And last but not least, Misty shrugged, Lily said she knew Brock was alive because she thinks that you have bonds of premonition with all your close friends, and that if he died, your sense would have overwhelmed you and put you out for at least a week.  
  
Ash looked away, is very weird.  
  
Katie had gone over to Brock's side to see how he was doing and was horrified by the sight of him. Meowth rubbed against her legs to console her, and she picked him up to pet him.  
  
This is Meowth, Brock, Katie introduced the talking cat to her unconscious brother. He's my best friend. Don't you want to pet Meowth?  
  
James sighed as he looked at Katie try and interact with a nearly dead person, but his breath was stopped short as Brock actually reached out and patted Meowth's head.  
  
Misty shouted, suddenly letting all of her emotions escape in that small movement. She nearly tripped over her own feet while running over to his side, and she gently grabbed his cheeks between her palms. His eyes were slightly open, and the pupils within turned to look at her, she could tell. He couldn't give any more acknowledgement than that, but it was okay with her. She leaned over, her whole body aching to know that he was okay and to feel him next to her, to feel him touch her in some way while awake and aware.  
  
Oh Brock, she released quickly in a whisper, I'll never let you out of my sight!  
  
Her pounding heart then rested upon his chest as she leaned over, her hair draping gently over the corners of his face as she closed her eyes and gently caressed his lips with her own, taking each lip and kissing gently, as if her touch could heal him. Her arms were shaking, and the shaking worsened as he returned her kiss, his lips feebly trying to return the affection. She gently slid her arms behind him, and Katie smiled shyly and backed away as Brock moved his hands as well as he could to her sides. They still rested on the bed, but he touched her with the tops of his arms, and it was more than she could even stand.  
  
There was a change, Ash shook his head. She's been practically comatose for the past three days.  
  
Love is a strange thing, Jessie nodded.   
  
Is she going to be my auntie? Katie asked, puzzledly.  
  
If they last, James laughed, she'll be your sister-in-law.  
  
Katie suddenly seemed forlorn again, but lost it as she sat down and cuddled the Meowth in her arms.  
  
I guess it was the mention of sister, Jessie thought sullenly.  
  
-------------------------------------------  
  
It wasn't my name anyway, Brock shrugged, pulling the drink from his lips and handing it back to Gary.  
  
But I always call you Shale!  
  
Brock Shale is dead, Brock replied, his hands fidgeting as he was beginning to feel tired once again. I'll never be able to go out in public if I don't change my identity.  
  
You could be a housewife, Gary shrugged.  
  
Hardy har har, Brock shook his head.  
  
I'm kind of glad you woke up so early, Gary whispered, his eyes fixed on the pink haze which was steadily rising into the sky.   
  
Brock laughed, I'm not crazy anymore?  
  
Gary laughed, you're still a crazy fuck, but it's nice to spend some time with you again, without them.  
  
Brock closed his eyes and tried to keep them from filling with moisture, hanging out with you was the only good thing about that whole—mess—  
  
Gary sensed Brock's weakening and slid over closer to him, offering his friend an arm.  
  
I know it hurts, Gary rested his head on Brock's shoulder, and I know it'll be a while before you're over it. But I'm here for you.  
  
You're all here for me, Brock closed his eyes even more tightly, even though I've put you through so much shit—  
  
I'd go through it three times, Gary smiled, because I got to meet you, after all.  
  
Brock was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable, but he let it pass. Ash was his best friend. Misty was his best friend. And now Gary was his best friend. It was nice to have so many friends, even if he felt permanently indebted to them.  
  
So what should my last name be? Brock tried to cheer up. He wiped his eyes clear and turned to Gary, a cheerful look masquerading his face once again.  
  
Gary whispered.  
  
Brock's eyes widened, I'm a little old to be adopted!  
  
So you are, Gary laughed. I thought you wouldn't mind being a kid again. It would be fun—we could lay around my Grandpa's house, trash his stuff and get away with it.Take his car on joy rides.  
  
But I feel so incredibly old, Brock looked to his fidgeting hands, wondering if his life would ever be anything like the way it was ever again.  
  
Gary sighed, the sun is almost all the way up. Come on inside, I'll make breakfast for everyone.  
  
I should, Brock smiled, I haven't done that in so long.  
  
No way! Gary laughed, running inside the door. You've got a while before you're running around doing things like that. I'm lucky you could just peel your eyes open to look at the sunset!  
  
Misty will be ecstatic, Brock thought. Or pissed that I'm up walking around.  
  
Gary chose to ignore his comment and began noisily removing everything he would need to make breakfast from the cupboards.  
  
Brock sat on the sofa, his hands fidgeting once again.  
  
a voice softly entered his ear, and a hand rested softly on his shoulder.  
  
Brock looked up at Misty as she sat down next to him.  
  
I'm feeling a lot better, Brock smiled weakly, don't be mad, I'm tired of lying in bed.  
  
Misty's eyes widened suddenly, then she blinked in surprise. I'm not mad, Brock. Not at all.  
  
The breathing of both members of the couple on the couch suddenly slowed as their heart rates quickened, and they leaned into a soft kiss, their arms gently encircling each other, as if the other was broken easily.  
  
I'm still sore, Brock muttered, pulling away and leaning back into the cushions of the couch. God, I wish all of this would just get over with.  
  
It is over with, Misty put a finger to his lips.  
  
Ash stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching them sadly.  
  
It's over with, he thought. Unless the Mistakes have other plans for us.  
  
The rest of the house began to wake as well, and all sat around for a bit of Gary's slightly-burned breakfast. The spirits were high, however, and it didn't seem that they would ever reach summer's fall.  
  
  
  
**  
A/N** Well, in case you thought that the Mistakes subplot ended to suddenly, I did that for a reason. I'm going to make a sequel to this that is VERY different from this story, and it'll be about what happens next regarding the Mistakes, and how our beloved heroes deal with it. Unless I get a lot of negative sentiments towards this, anyway. I hope you liked this story—I don't care if you don't like gymshippiness, because trust me, if I make a sequel, it'll be worse since they'll already be together. Ta ta.  
  



End file.
